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THE

GRANITE MONTHLY

A New Hampshire Magazine

DEVOTED TO

HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, LITERATURE,
AND STATE PROGRESS

VOLUME XXXVll

CONCORD, N. H.

PUBLISHED BY THE GRANITE MONTHLY COMPANY

1904

N
V.37

Published, 1904

By the Granite Monthly Company

Concord, N. H.

Printed and Illustrated by the

Rumford Printing Company (Rum/ord Press)

Concord, AVtc Hn>n.fishire, U. S. A.

The Granite Monthly.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXXVIl.

yiily — December, igo^.

Ayres, Philip W., Thk Poorest Situation in New Hampshire and How to
Change It .........

Baynes, Ernest Harold, George I. Putnam ....

Beede, Eva J., Midsu.mmer {poem) ......

Blake, Amos J., Sketch of the Life and Character of Col. Amos A. Parker
Boody, Louis Milton, The Front Fence .....

Brown, Gilbert Patten, John Stark, the Hero of Bennington
Buflfum, Jesse H.. Dempsey's Trick ......

Carr, Laura Garland, A Fact {poem) . . .

Chesley, Charles Henry, On the Tide {poetn) ....

Clough, William O., Crayon Portrait of Abraham Lincoln .
Colby, H. B., A Glass of Ale .......

Charles C. Hayes ........

Dempsey's Trick, Jesse H. BuiTum ......

Editorial Notes :

An Automobile Law .......

Road Improvements under State Supervision .
Some Lessons from the Berlin, N. H., Fire .
Road Improvement in So.me of Our Smaller Towns

Fact, A {poem) , Laura Garland Carr ......

Farr, Ellen Burpee, Our "Old Home Week"' {poem)
Forest Situation in New Hampshire, The, and I low to Change
W. Ayres ..........

Front Fence, The, Louis Milton Boody .....

Glass of Ale, A, H. B. Colbv

H., A. H., The Hope Plant {poem) ....

Hayes, Charles C, H. B. C

Hope Plant, The {poem), A. H. H

Leslie, H. G., M. D., Shoreline Sketches — Thanksgiving
Lincoln, Abraha.m, Crayon Portrait of, William O. Clough

87
104

73
68

72
17

lOI

3
15

88
89

133

134

72
57

65
43

15
76

lOI

4»'3 5'i

CONTENTS.

Midsummer {poem), Eva J. Beede ......... 87

On the Tide {poem), Charles Henry Chesley . . . . • 17

Our "Old Home Week" {poetn), Ellen Burpee Farr ..... 57

Parker, Col. Amos A., Sketch of the Life and Character of, Amos J.

Blake, Esq. . . . . . . . . . . . .104

Putnam, George I., Ernest Harold Baynes ....... 49

Roberts, Col. James, of Berwick, Maine, John Scales . . . . . 2,-j

Sanborn, F. B., of Concord, Massachusetts, History and Poetry from the

Life of . . . 19, 77, iii

Scales, John, Col. James Roberts of Berwick, Maine ..... 37

Shoreline Sketches — Thanksgiving, H. G. Leslie, M. D 59

Stark, John, the Hero of Bennington, Gilbert Patten Brown • 73

State Highway Work in the White Mountains, John W. Storrs ... 95

Storrs, John W., State Highway Work in the White Mountains . 59

T., A., Vanitas Vanitatu.m (^poetn) . . . 43

Vanitas Vanitatum {poem), A. T. . . . . . . -43

THE CLOCK TOWER, FRANK JONES BREWING CO., PORTSMOUTH, N. H.

The Granite Monthly.

Vol. XXXVir.

JULY, 1904.

No. 1.

View From Clock Tower.

A GLASS OF ALE.

With pictures from the plant of the Frank Jones Brewing Company, Portsmouth, N. H.

By H. B. Colby.

Ale is a decoction of barley to
which is added a certain quantity of
hops and yeast, and is then allowed to
ferment to a given degree, when it is
drawn off into barrels and permitted
to age perfectly before it is ready for
the use of the consumer.

It has been made in some form or
other since the very earliest ages of
which we have any reliable record;
for we find that the Egyptians made
a decoction of barley which was used
as a beverage more than five thousand
years ago, according to the estimates
of the most eminent Egyptologists of
the present day. It played a most
important part in their mythology
and is mentioned in the ' ' Book of the
Dead, ' ' which is the record of the an-
cient Egyptian kings, and which book
is at the least five thousand years old.

It would appear from these records
that barley must have furnished a
national beverage for many years be-
fore that book's earliest date. It is
also related that Osiris, about 2017 B.
C, found "barley-wine" in the
Egyptian city of Pelusium; again, we
are told, in another place, that about
3000 B. C, in the Nile land, four
kinds of beer were known.

Herodotus (484 B. C.) speaks only
of a barley-wine known to the
Egyptians, and even asserts that the
grape was not found on the soil of
Egypt. A native of Greece, where
the grape has been cultivated since
dim ages of the past and where wine
drinking was ever the universal cus-
tom, Herodotus was plainly an entire
stranger to the Egyptian juice of
barlev. He relates: "Their beverage

A GLASS OF ALE.

Private Railway in Brewery Yard.

is a wine prepared by them from bar-
ley, there being no grapes in their
country." Pliny (23 A. D.), speak-
ing of the Egyptian drink, says that
it is made from grain soaked in
water; and, as a wine-drinking Ro-
man, he deplores the fact that so
much skill is wasted in the production
of so light a beverage. That it was
made from malted grain is not alone
shown by the various designations of
barley, but also by the discovery of
harley-malt in the ruins of ancient
Egypt. In this connection we find
no mention at all of hops, so it is
most probable that they used pungent
roots and certain spices for the flavors
to suit the popular taste.

The formulas for the making of
barley-wine, and many variations of
the same, were evidently carried
gradually from one country to an-
other, by occasional travelers and by
the incessant invasions of warring
armies, and in due course of time

reached England, where its manufac-
ture attained such absolute perfection
of brewing that the "Ale of Merrie
England" has been for many years
the standard of quality. By the be-
ginning of the reign of Henry II the
English were greatly addicted to the
use of ale. The waters of Burton-
on-Trent began to be famous in the
thirteenth century. The secret of
their being so especially adapted' for
brewing purposes was first discovered
by some monks, who have ever been
celebrated in poetry and painting as
good and great drinkere, and the mon-
asteries were remarkable for the
strength and purity of their ales,
brewed from malt prepared by the
monks with great care and skill.

A record still extant and bearing
date of 1295 (think of it), bears wit-
ness of a re-lease of certain lands and
tenements in the adjacent neighbor-
hood of Wetmore to the abbot and
convent of Burton-on-Trent at a daily

A GLASS OF ALE.

rental, during the life of the lessor,
of two white loaves from the monas-
tery, two gallons of conventual beer,
and one penny, besides seven gallons
of beer for the men. The brewers of
Biirton-on-Trent are more famous to-
day than ever before. INIiehael
Thomas Bass, who died in 1884, was
noted for his industry, integrity, abil-
ity, and public liberality (especially
to religious and educational works).
For thirty-three years he also repre-
sented Derby in the British parlia-
ment. ]\Iichael Arthur, his eldest
son, succeeded him in the manage-
ment of the business. His parlia-
mentary career commenced in 1865
and he was created a peer, under the
title of Lord Burton, during the last
Gladstone administration.

Beer was brought from old Eng-
land to New England by the passen-
gers on the Mayflower, and we find in
Young's "Chronicles of the. Pil-
grims," that, after a two days' pur-
suit of Indians on Cape Cod, they
stood much in need of fresh water.

"for we brought neither beer nor
water with us from the ship, and our
only victuals was biscuit and Holland
cheese and a little bottle of brandy. ' '
And later when on board ship they
were debating as to the advisability
of establishing a permanent settle-
ment on Cape Cod, the same record
says : ' ' We had yet some beer, butter,
flesh, and other victuals left, which
would quickly be all gone; and then
we should have nothing to comfort us.
. . . So in the morning, after we had
called on God for direction, we came
to this resolution — to go presently
ashore again and to take a better
view of two places which we thought
most fitting for us; for we could not
now take time for further search or
consideration, our victuals being
much spent, especially our beer, and
it being now the 19th of December."
Later we find: "Monday, the 25th,
1620, being Christmas day, we began
to drink water aboard. But, at
night, the master caused us to have
some beer, but on shore none at all."

Store where Ale is Matured.

A GLASS OF ALE.

A Floor in the Mal.t House.

A year later, one of the Pilgrims
writing to a friend in England, tells
him, in shipping goods for the colony :
**Let your casks for beer be iron-
bound. ' ' But so far as I can find out
there is no record of the arrival of
this beer in any kind of casks. One
John Jenny, a brewer by trade, came
to Plymouth in 1623, and was the
first of the craft to arrive in New
England; he worked a corn mill but
it is not recorded that he ever brewed
in the colony. The colonists of Mas-
sachusetts Bay were more successful
in their shipments from the old coun-
try, for, early in 1629, the British
Court of Assistants sent to th(^n, on
the Talbot, forty-five tuns of beer and
four hundredweight of hops. Thir-
ty quarters of malt were sent after-
wards in another ship. Samuel
Wentworth of Portsmouth obtained
the first license to brew beer in New
Hampshire in 1670, but the difficulty
in obtaining barley caused the trade
to languish for many years.

In 1854 John Swindels, an English-
man, came to Portsmouth, N. H., and

started a brewery on Bridge St., but
soon moved to Market St. Swindels
was a thorough master of the art of
brewing and made a good quality of
ale, but he lacked the business capac-
ity essential to success, so in 1856 he
sold an interest in the brewery to
Frank Jones, and in 1861 Mr. Jones
purchased the balance of the business
and started The Frank Jones Brew-
ing Co., which began with an annual
output of only five thousand three
hundred barrels, and is to-day one of
the largest ale and porter plants in
the United States.

Frank Jones was born in Barring-
ton, September 15, 1832, and was the
fifth of seven children of Thomas and
Mary (Priest) Jones. Thomas Jones,
a thrifty and well-to-do farmer of
Barrington, was one of fourteen chil-
dren of Peltiah Jones, a successful
sea captain who, born in Wales and
emigrating to this country with his
parents in infancy (his father dying
on the passage), was in early life
placed by his mother in the service of
the well-known Portsmouth navigator,

A GLASS OF ALE.

Captain Sheafe, by whom he was
trained in the occupation which he
followed for many years, becoming a
ship owner as well as master. The
War of 1812 made navigation danger-
ous, and, during its progress, he
availed liimself of a favorable oppor-
tunity to sell both ship and cargo, and
with the proceeds purchased the farm
in Barrington, which became known
as the Jones homestead, and subse-
quently came into the possession of
Thomas, who, inheriting the Welsh
characteristics of perseverance and
sagacity, aided hj the Scotch thrift
and intelligence of his wife, a daugh-
ter of Capt. Joseph Priest of Notting-
ham, added largely to his possessions,
and accumulated a handsome proper-
ty for a New Hampshire farmer of
that day. With the characteristic
independence of the New England
youth his sons started out early in

he obtained his father's consent to
strike out for himself and, putting his
clothing in a bundle, he started on
foot for Portsmouth, a city with
which he was alreadj" somewhat
familiar, having driven in more than
once with charcoal, wood, or farm
products for the city market, in the
disposal of which he learned his first
lessons in trade and business life.
Here his elder brother, Hiram, was
already well established in the stove
and hardware business, with several
men in his employ, most of whom
engaged in peddling his lighter wares
through the surrounding towns.
Frank went to work for his brother,
and shortly made a contract with him
for three years' service, receiving a
thousand dollars for the full time,
most of which he spent as a peddler.
The knowledge of human nature, and
the varied characteristics of men,

A Mash-tun.

life to make their own way in the
world. It w^as the desire of his
parents that Frank should remain at
home upon the farm; but the young
man's ambitious spirit was not satis-

which he gained during his three
years' experience, proved of vast ad-
vantage in his future business career.
His father had endeavored to secure
his return home, but his brother's

fied in any such circumscribed sphere promise to receive him as a partner in
of action. In his seventeenth year the business at the expiration of the

A GLASS OF ALE.

A Copper.

contract was a teniptatiou too strong
to be resisted. "When reminded of
his promise, after his contract had
expired, his brother tried to persuade
him to continue in his employ, offer-
ing him a cash present of one thou-
sand dollars and a thousand dollars
a year for a term of five years. This,
at that time, was a most tempting
offer for a youth of twenty years, and
he thought at first to accept it; but,
upon returning to the store, after a
brief visit to his parents, he was for-
cibly struck with the thought that if
his brother could afford to make him
such an offer the business was suffi-
ciently profitable to make an interest
therein desirable, and he determined
to insist on the original agreement,

which was accordingly carried out,
and he became a partner with his
brother in a large and well established
business in January, 1853. Already
thoroughly conversant with the prac-
tical details of the business, he
devoted himself thereto with all the
energy of his nature, and the follow-
ing autumn his brother, being in ill
health, sold him his interest, leaving
him, at twenty-one years of age, the
sole proprietor. He continued the
business with eminent success until
1861, when lie sold out, for the pur-
pose (as we have already stated) of
devoting his undivided energies to the
management of the brewery.

Under his guiding hand the busi-
ness grew more prosperous and lucra-

Good Yeast.

Poor Yeast.

A GLASS OF ALE.

tive, and many improvements and
additions were projected and carried
out by Mr. Jones. To bring and
keep the quality of his ale up to the
highest point of excellence was Mr.
Jones' object from the outset, and he
consequently determined to produce
his own malt. So, in 1863, the Com-
pany built a large malt house, with a
capacity of eighty thousand bushels.
The business increased steadily and
they enlarged this house in 1868 ;

ter in the United States were built,
and other improvements have since
been made on a like scale, important
among which should be mentioned the
extensive bottling works erected in
1900, and adjoining the brewery.

A visit to the plant of this company
will take one over an enormous acre-
age of floor space, every bit of which
is absolutely as neat and clean as it
is possible to obtain by the copious
scaldings of boiling hot water, and

The Cooler.

then in 1871, to keep up with their
orders, it was found necessary to
build a new brew house, which was
constructed and arranged throughout
in the most thorough and perfect
manner, and furnished with the best
improved appliances kno\\Ti to the
business. In 1878 a cooperage
department was added, and the fol-
lowing year still another and much
larger malt house was erected.
During the early eighties the largest
cellars for the storage of ale and por-

thorough scrubbing. Up in the top
of one of the malt houses you will see
great vats in which the barley is
steeped, or soaked, in order to start
the germinating process. In steep-
ing, the grain swells about one fifth
in bulk, and on6 half in weight. It
is then spread on floors and germin-
ation begins.

Barley is the seed of several species
of Hordeum, and belongs to the tribe
of grasses called by botanists Gramin-
aceoe. It has been cultivated since

A GLASS OF ALE.

Fermenting Tuns.

tlie earliest times. Good barley
should have a thin, clean, wrinkled
husk, closely adhering to a plump,
well-fed kernel, which, when broken,
appears white and sweet, with a germ
full, and of a pale yellow color. It
is, of all cereals, the best adapted for
malting, containing more starch and
less gluten than other grain, and
about seven per cent, of ready-formed
grape-sugar. Great care must be
exercised in buying in 0i.'der that the
barley may be of even-sized grains
and free from clay, stones, and other
seeds. Outside of this country the
brewer has to scour Europe, Asia,
Africa, South America, and the Uni-
ted States for his barley and hops;
but the Pacific and "Western states
and the state of New York supply the
American brewer with all that he re-
quires.

The maltster's object is to obtain as
much saccharine matter as possible,
with the smallest loss of substance, by

converting the starch of the barley
into sugar, and thus preparing it for
the brewery. As germination starts,
the stem begins to grow under the
husk from the same end as the root,
but, instead of piercing the husk,
turns around and proceeds under it
to the other end of the grain. This
would develop into the green leaf
were its progress not stopped. Best
ales are made from malt in which the
stem is allowed to grow to almost the
length of the kernel and is nearly
ready to burst through as a veritable
sprout; at this time there will be
found five rootlets curling from the
end of the grain. "When germination
has reached this stage it is stopped by
removing the barley to another room,
having a metal floor pierced with
many fine holes which admit a con-
stant current of hot air, thus drying
the grain quickly. The Frank Jones
Co. malt houses use over four thou-
sand bushels of barley every week.

A GLASS OF ALE.

The malt, being sufficiently dried, is
then sifted, and crushed in a mill
that resembles those used in making
"roller process" flour, after which it
is conveyed to the mash-tun and is
there covered with water heated to a
very high temperature. Good water,
hard, and free from organic matter,
is an absolute necessity in the brew-
ing of good ale. The supposed value
of the Burton waters is due to the
fact that they are not surface waters
at all, but are drawn from wells
twenty to one hundred and twenty
feet deep, supplied from springs.
Now that is exactly the case in Ports-
mouth, and The Frank Jones Brew-
ery has its own auxiliary pumping
station readj^ in an emergency.

The water having been heated and
added to the malt in the mash-tun
(the contents of which are now
known as "mash") the mash is
drawn off into the copper; here the

hops are added and the materials for
the brew (now known as "wort") are
ready. Hops were first used in
brewing in the ninth century, and
were introduced into England from
Flanders. They are added to impart
the bitter flavor and also as a preser-
vative. A good brewer carefully
times his brew at the proper tempera-
ture, for too much or too little brew-
ing is as bad for ale as for tea. The
wort is now dra^vn off and rapidly
cooled by falling in a steady stream
over the pipes shown in the cut.
These pipes are ice cold, being filled
constantly by the pumps of the re-
frigerating plant. The wort passes
from the cooler to the fermenting
tuns, where the yeast is added and
fermentation at once commences.
The yeast is a very important factor
in brewing operations and great care
is taken to have it pure and of the
right formation. Microscopic exam-

Filling Casks in Racking Room.

A GLASS OF ALE.

Where the Casks are Washed.

ination is the test for this and two
kinds are here shoAvn. As fermen-
tation progresses, a great mass of
foam is thro\vn up to a thickness of
some three feet on the top of the ale
and is repeatedly skimmed off until
the operation is completed, when the
ale is drawn off into a tank of metal,
and compressed air admitted to the
top to force it into the casks in the
' * racking room. ' ' The casks are also
filled with air at the same pressure, so
that as the ale comes in the air goes
out, and there is no foaming; conse-
quently the barrel may be filled full.

The Frank Jones Brewing Company
make most of the casks which they use,
and maintain a large and well ap-
pointed cooper shop for this purpose.
AVhen a cask is returned empty, it is
carefully inspected, and, if sweet, is
cleansed in the washing room, thor-
oughly scalded and rinsed before re-
filling; but if it is found to be foul,
then it goes to the cooper shop and a
head is taken out to cleanse the in-
side thoroughly.

In order that the ale in cask may
be systematically and intelligently
matured, stores are required in Avhich

r-arrn Tearyis V'v'aiting in tlie Bie.'.c.^ "la.d f«r Grains.

A GLASS OF ALE.

Store for Maturing Bottled Aie.

one even temperature can be kept all
the year round. This means that
each store must contain a heating ap-
paratus for use in winter and a re-
frigerating one for use in summer.
In these vaults are stored thousands
of casks at the same even temperature
every day of the year. Experience
has proved that 54 degrees Fahr. is
the natural temperature for the life
of ale. There are several useful by-
products in the process which are val-
uable, among which are the grains
which are bought by the farmers in
the vicinity for feed; the spent hops,
for manure; and screenings or sldm-
mings of barley, for chicken food.

When the several brands of ale are
properly matured, the casks are
shipped to the different agents for
sale, or else are taken to the adjoining
bottling department and bottled for
export or for family use. The bot-
tling plant is equipped with the most

modern labor-saving machinery for
cleansing the bottles, filling, and seal-
ing them.

In every department of tliis im-
mense brewing plant the utmost care
is taken to the end that its product
shall be the best that money and
brains can produce. Cleanliness is
the first order for every man on the
place, and the men in charge of the
various operations are every one ex-
perts. Only the best modern ma-
chinery is used, and the buyers of the
grain and hops to be consumed are
searching always for the best that can
be bought.

The result is that most people con-
sider Frank Jones' Ales even supe-
rior to the celebrated imported pro-
ducts. The output is steadily in-
creasing, being last year nearly a
quarter of a million barrels, and wiU
probably exceed that amount consid-
erably the present year.

CHARLES C. HAYES.

iL. n. c.

At a recent political meeting held
in Manchester, the Democratic candi-
date for mayor was briefly introduced
bv a man, who, after the nominee had

*■ 7 7

made his speech of acceptance, was
liimself loudly called upon for a
speech. The current papers said
that he made "his usual graceful
speech, which was composed of solid
facts, combined in logical sequence;
no vituperation; just a fair-minded
presentation of facts and figures with
wliich he was perfectly familiar."

This man was Charles Carrol
Hayes, one of the leading business
men of Manchester.

He is a native of New London. His
early years were spent in that beau-
tiful country town and in Salisbury,
where his parents moved in 1861 and
where his father, the late Hon, John
M. Hayes, conducted a general store
during, and after, the Civil "War. In
1869 the family moved to Manchester,
which has since been the residence of
the subject of this sketch. Mr.
Hayes obtained his education in the
district schools of New London and
Salisbury and the public schools of
Manchester, graduating from the
Manchester High school in 1875 with
a good record for scholarship and in-
dustry.

After graduation he made a trip
through the West and shortly after
his return he entered the employ
of John M. Chandler & Co., then con-
ducting the "Old Family General

Store," known far and wide in the
early days of Manchester under the
management of Kidder & Chandler
(the late distinguished Mason and
Odd Fellow, Joseph Kidder, being the
original head of the firm). The
business of this firm was very exten-
sive and it brought the young clerk,
a wide acquaintance with the farmers
of the surrounding towns, for the
"Old Family Store" was almost a
landmark for the farmers from miles
around, who were accustomed to make
it their headquarters on their trading
trips to Manchester. Remaining
here about three years, Mr. Hayes
entered into business for himself,
purchasing a grocery store at the
corner of Elm and Mechanic streets,
which he conducted successfully for
three and a half years, when he dis-
posed of it and entered upon the real
estate, insurance, loan, and surety
bond business, in which he is at
present engaged. Having his ofBce
at first in the Opera block, Mr. Hayes
moved in 1894 to the magnificent,
newly erected Kennard building, and
in the new structure of the same
name he has his office at the present
time; he is also the agent for the
building. The -integrity, business
acumen, and enterprise of Mr. Hayes
has resulted in building up a profi-
table and satisfactory business of a
sterling reputation among people of
all classes.

Politically, Charles C. Hayes is a

G. M.— 2

1 6 CHARLES C. HAYES.

Democrat, and of the most sturdy been its treasurer since the death of
sort, as was his father before him. the late Henry Chandler. In the
But such is the confidence reposed in development of the shoe industry,
him by even his political opponents which is second among the great
that he has always run largely ahead industries of Manchester, where its
of his ticket when named for public employees number several thousands,
office. In 1894 and again in 1896 he he is actively interested, and is treas-
was the candidate of his party for urer of the Eimmon Manufacturing-
mayor of Manchester against the company, owning the factory opera-
popular William C. Clarke. On ted by H. B. Reed & Co., and is clerk
the latter occasion he polled a vote of the ]\Ianchester Shoe IManufactur-
larger by fifty per cent, than that ing Co., which owns the huge build-
thrown for his ticket, being de- ing occupied by Kimball Bros., who
feated by only 700 votes when the are among the largest manufacturers
average Republican majority for in their line in the country. Mr.
other officers was over 2,600. This Hayes is a stockholder in numerous
was in the Presidential year of 1896, other manufacturing enterprises on
when, it will be remembered, the sil- which the abundant prosperity of
ver issue contributed so largely to ]\Ian Chester is founded. No project
demoralize the Democratic party, and looking toward the advancement of
when the largest degree of personal the city of his adoption fails to secure
popularity was necessary to hold the his sympathetic assistance,
average Democratic strength, not to It is inevitable that a man of Mr.
mention gaining votes from the oppo- Hayes' companionable nature should
sition. This year he has been named be attracted by that form of modern
by his party for treasurer of Hills- civilization which finds its expression
borough county, and there is little in the Fraternal Order, and he early
doubt among any who know him but became a member of the ]\Iasonic fra-
that his record will largely reduce, if ternity, to whose teachings there is no
it does not extinguish, the usual large more devoted adherent in our state.
Republican majority for that office. He took the degrees, which made him
In the councils of his party Mr. a Master Mason, in Washington
Hayes is an influential figure. While lodge, No. 61, in 1877, and subse-
making no aspirations to the fame of quently passed through the significant
a " speU-binder, " he is a clear, logical, rites of Mt. Horeb Royal Arch Cliap-
and forcible speaker, and is found on ter, Adoniram Council of Royal and
the platform declaring the truth as Select Mastera, and Trinity Com-
he sees it, with dignity and effect, raandery. Knights Templar, of Man-
whenever occasion requires. Chester. He was also advanced
In the various business concerns of through the degrees of Edward A.
Manchester Mr. Hayes is largely in- Raymond Consistory of the Scottish
terested as a public-spirited and en- Rite of Nashua, and received the 33d
terprising citizen. A charter mem- degree of Masonry, September 21,
ber of the Board of Trade, he was the 1897, at Boston, Mass. In all the
president of that representative or- beneficent work of this grand frater-
ganization in 1894 and 1895, and has nity he bears an honored and prom-

OA THE 7 IDE. 17

inent part, for he is a friend and sup- Hayes liolds membership in the

porter of that magnificent charity, Derryfield and Calumet clubs, and is

the IMasonic Home at Manchester, a trustee of the Mechanics' Savings

being at the present time a trustee of bank.

that institution. The offices he has Islr. Hayes has been twice married,

held in the ]\Iasonie order embrace first, in 1885, to Miss Belle J. Ken-

those of "Worshipful IMaster of Wash- nard (daughter of John and Hannah

ington lodge, Thrice Illustrious Mas- B. Kennard), who died August 1,

ter of Adoniram Council, Eminent 1890, leaving three children, John

Conunander of Trinity Commandery, Carrol, Louise K., and Annie Belle.

]\Iost Worshipful Grand Master of In 1900 he married Miss Carrie W.

jNIasons in New Hampshire in 1894- Anderson. They have one daughter,

'95, and Eight Eminent Grand Com- Marion.

mander of the Grand Commandery, In all the relations of life Charles

Knights Templar of New Hampshire C. Hayes represents the best type of

(in 1893), of w^hich body he is now the public-spirited, conscientious cit-

Grand Treasurer. izen, and his name stands for honesty.

In addition to his Masonic con- conservatism, and good sense in the

nections, he is a member of Amoskeag management of public and private

grange. Patrons of Husbandry. Mr. affairs. Whenever he has been a

Hayes early affiliated with the Bap- candidate for public office, his op-

tist denomination and was president ponent has realized at the close of the

of the First Baptist Religious society canvass that there has been a contest,

of Manchester for the thirteen years and the large votes cast for Mr.

ending in December, 1903, and was Hayes show clearly enough the im-

identified with its board for twenty press that his character has made

years. upon the community in which he has

In a thriving city like Manchester lived so many years. Thoroughly

there is no end to the directions in loyal to his city and his state, true to

which the activities of a public- his principles, to his friends and him-

spirited and energetic citizen can self, Charles C. Hayes deserves the

manifest themselves, and, in addition respect in which he is held,
to the bodies already mentioned, Mi\

ON THE TIDE.

By Charles Henry Chesley.

We idly drift down the marshy coves,

And round the ledges where the breakers foam,

The white-winged gulls fly overhead in droves
And wildly sing our hearts : " The sea is home.

F. B Sanborn (I 904).

HISTORY AND POETRY FROM THE LIFE OF F. B. SANBORN
OF CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS.

CHAPTER I. — CHILDHOOD.

At the request of the editor of the
Granite Monthly, who desires to
preserve and publish in this maga-
zine all that relates to the colony and
state where we were born, I begin
these recollections of a long life, in
which will be mingled many a strand
from earlier times than ours, and
many another life which has crossed
mine, or flowed beside it to that wide
ocean of Eternity, towards which
every human existence tends, in its
short course through this inscrutable
world. We are sent into it without
our will, and we stay here a longer or

shorter time, with no consent of our
own, for the most part ; and the influ-
ence of our small contribution of vital-
ity and activity, to the infinitude of
life around us, we can neither com-
pute nor avoid in the final reckoning
of human accountability. I can at
least say that mine has never been
consciously directed, save in the sal-
lies of youth, towards aught but the
good of others, as I then understood
it ; though it may well be that what I
thought for their best was in its effect
far otherwise.

My vitality, but, I hope, not my
infant accountability, began in a brisk
winter day, December 15, 1831, in

FRANK B. SANBORN.

The Old B. Sanborn House. (In Front of Munt Hill )

the southwest lower room of the old
house, built in 1743, which is repre-
sented in the view of it here given.
My mother, I^ydia Leavitt by her
maiden name, was then approaching
thirty-two, having been born at her
father's house, under the four elms,
(Thomas lyeavitt's) in March, 1800,
coincident with the new century, and
married at the age of twenty. My
father, Aaron Sanborn, was then
thirty-nine (born November 26, 1793);
and I was the fourth of his children
who survived — an infant, his first-
born, dying in i820-'2i. His oldest
son, my eldest living brother, to
whom I was much indebted for my
early education, Charles Henry San-
born, became a physician after many
experiences and some adventures, and
practised for more than forty years in
the old township of Hampton, which
was founded in 1638 by our earliest
American ancestor. Reverend Stephen
Bachiler, an Oxford graduate of
1586, and the latest of our immediate
line to receive a university degree,
until 1855 and 1856, when Charles
and I took our Harvard diplomas of
A. B. and M. D., 270 years later
than our clerical forefather. In 1867
our youngest brother, Joseph Leavitt

Sanborn (born in October, 1843), took
his Harvard degree. In his educa-
tion Dr. Charles and I co-operated,
and also his two sisters and elder
brother, Lewis Thomas Sanborn (born
October 11, 1834; died June 26, 1904),
under whose particular care he was
after my leaving New Hampshire in
i854-'55. These sisters were Sarah
Elizabeth (born May 23, 1823 ; died
at Hampton Falls, Feb. 25, 1903) and
Helen Maria (born March 17, 1830,
and still living in our old home).
Our ancestors, with the exception of
Mr. Bachiler and his eldest grand-
son of the Sanborn line, John, were
all born in the first broad township of
Hampton, including what are now
that town and Hampton Falls, North
Hampton, Seabrook, Southampton,
and a good part of Kensington. Most
of them, excepting the second John
Sanborn and his brother Joseph (of
the Sanborn line) were born, on the
farm of which our old house w^as near
the center, and the Benjamin San-
born house (represented above) was
at the western limit. Another San-
born house stood not far from the
barn of Dr. Sanborn's place, and was
long the residence of Deacon Benja-
min, one of the first of many Hamp-

FRANK B. SANBORN.

ton Falls deacons ; while a still older
house, most likely of hewn logs,
stood near the " Pepperidge Bush,"
which was a landmark for centuries,
half way down the hill to the north-
west, on the old Exeter road.

The original Sanborn farm, taken
up, as I suppose, before i6So, ad-
joined the farm of Nathaniel Bachel-
der, a grandson of Parson Stephen,
now occupied (in part) by my cousin,
Warren Brown, the historian of the
parish and town of Hampton Falls.
It was much more extensive than that
lately left by my brother, Lewis, and
seems to have reached from the cor-
ner where the " Old Mill Road " comes
out upon the ' ' Back Road ' ' to Hamp-
ton, westward about 220 rods, to the
Indian hill behind the Benjamin San-
born house, on which, traditionally,
. was the wigwam of an Indian —
always known as ' ' Munt Hill, ' ' mean-
ing "Mound Hill," as I fancy.
This neighborhood center of San-
borns, Bachelders, and Prescotts

was originally a blockhouse fort
against Indian assault, then a school-
house, and finally the meeting-house
of 1768, here represented. One by one
the families removed, and others came
in (always excepting the Sanborns and
a branch of the Bachelders), so that,
at my birth, the neighborhood was
made up of Sanborns in two houses,
the Browns in two, the Lanes (a con-
nection of the Sanborns by the mar-
riage of Deacon Lane to my grand-
father's aunt, Mary Sanborn), and the
Perkinses, Wellses, and Healeys, who
had come upon the lands of Deacon
Sanborn, and of the Greens and Pres-
cotts and Cliffords gone elsewhere.
Temporarily the parsonage was empty
of a minister (Parson Abbot having
gone upon his farm at Windham)
and my uncle, Joseph, with his wife
and two children were there, tenants
of the parish. A few years after my
birth they removed to what is now
the oldest house in town — an ancient
Cram homestead — my uncle's wife

The Old Meeting-house.

FRANK B. SANBORN.

Interior of the Old Meeting-house.

being Betsey Cram, a sister of Porter
and Joseph Cram, who were an im-
portant influence in my boyhood and
youth, as will be seen. Of this house
the artist presents a view in connec-
tion with the story of my first esca-
pade. In my native hamlet I was one
of some twenty children-six Sanborns,
one Sanborn-Stevens, adopted by my
grandfather ; six Healeys, cousins of
Mrs. Dall ; three Browns, two Lanes,
two Wellses, and one Perkins — the
other Browns and Perkinses having
grown up and gone into the world to
make their way. At present there
are but four children where the twen-
ty-one of 1833 gamboled and went to
school at the red or the brick school-
house. My systematic instruction
began in the red house, on the ridge
leading to my Grandfather Leavitt's
hill and meadow farm, and half way
between his house and my father's.
My sisters took me there before I was

four, and at the age of four and a half
I was the pupil of dear Mary Law-
rence, who gave me my first reward
of merit, and bestowed on me her
sweet smile, which I still remember.
She was the daiighter of Dr. Law-
rence of Hampton, and taught only
in summers^ — the winter schools, fre-
quented by the big boys, requiring
the muscles of a schoolmaster, who
sometimes wielded the rod with manly
vigor. I was soon transferred to the
brick schoolhouse on the Exeter road,
and there continued my education,
summer and winter, till at the age of
eleven I had begun algebra, and
was learning a little Latin from my
brother Charles, who read Caesar,
Virgil, and Cicero "at the age of
twenty, self-instructed, so far as I
know.

But I have a few recollections
earlier than even my alphabetical
school years; indeed, I must have

FRANK B. SANBORN.

had the alphabet when I went to
Mary Ivawrence ; for I then read in
words of two or three syllables, and
could understand the pictured fables in
the spelling-book that had superseded
Webster's. His " rude boy " steal-
ing apples still survived in the newer
book, and could be seen in the coarser
printed Webster, carefully preserved
among other old schoolbooks in the
garret. Of this garret I have early
souvenirs ; but one of my earliest
recollections is of another garret, with
very steep stairs, up which my short
legs, at three years old, could hardly
mount. I remember myself in a
short plaid gown, toiling up this
mountain pathway, along with another
child (Arthur Godfrey, perhaps), and
not till many years after did I recog-
nize this same stairway in the old
Benjamin Sanborn house, then owned
by Cousin Nancy, in which my Aunt
Dorothy, soon to be mentioned, was
brought up by her grandmother as a
companion to her younger cousin,
early left an orphan. This incident I
place in 1835 ; but before that I was
the hero of another adventure, of
which my mother told me, for I can-
not recall it. In 1834, when I was a
little beyond two years and a half, if so
much, our house was struck by light-
ning, and the bolt ran down the big
chimney, and diverted itself a little
in the " back chamber," where I was
playing alone, near the chimney. My
sister ran up to see what had hap-
pened to me, but I was found placidly
playing with a stick, seated on the
floor, and declaring that the great
noise had been made by my pounding
on the floor with my stick. I believed
myself already capable of making
some stir in the world.

My father was one of five children

by the two marriages of my Grand-
father Sanborn with two cousins
named Blake. By the first was born
one daughter, Dolly (shortened from
Dorothy), who never married ; by
the second, two sons and two daugh-
ters, of whom only the younger
daughter, Sally, married. The two
brothers, Joseph, named for the
builder of the house, and Aaron (a new
name in the family), had been diligent
pupils in the district school, and re-
ceived prizes for their skill in mathe-
matics,— small American editions of
"Pope's Essay on Man," to which
his Universal Prayer was annexed.
These, together with the " ciphering
books" that had won the prize, re-
mained in an old chest in the west
garret, which contained a medley of
ancient literature. Upon these my
thirst for reading exercised itself for
half a dozen years, — almanacs and
school-books, old copies of the Nezv
Havipshire Patriot of Isaac Hill, and
more recent copies of the first Uni-
versalist newspaper in Boston, Thomas
Whittemore's Trumpet.

But there was more solid food in a
" Social Library " founded by Parson
Abbot, who had succeeded Dr. I^ang-
don as the town minister when my
father was five years old, and induced
his parishioners to take shares in it.
Ordinarily it was kept in the parson-
age, across the green from my grand-
father's house, where now stands the
house, about the same size, of my
late brother I^ewis. Before I was
eight years old I began to read those
books, particularly " Mavor's Voy-
ages " and -" Plutarch's Lives," the
latter in Langhorne's version, with
quotations from Homer given in the
words of Pope, and with other poetic
passages (in the footnotes) from Dr.

FRANK B. SANBORN.

The Old Cram House.

Johnson and his contemporaries. For
fiction we had the " Popular Tales"
of Miss Edgeworth and the " Moral
Tales" of Hannah More; while ser-
mons and biographies, Goldsmith's
"Animated Nature," and an occa-
sional volume of poems, — Southey's
"Joan of Arc," I remember, for
there I first saw Greek verse in the
unknown alphabet, and the effusions
of Colonel Humphreys and Robert
Treat Paine.

My Uncle Joseph, a grave and
kindly man, who had lived for a few
years in the parsonage after Parson
Abbot vacated it in 1827, was now
living, a confirmed invalid, in the old
Cram house, here represented, and
probablj' built before 1700. He died
in December, 1836, before I was five
years old, and his funeral sermon was
preached by Rev. Stephen Farley,
the father of Harriet Farley, one of

the founders, and for years the editor,
of the once famous Lowell Offering,
written by factory girls, of whom
Harriet was one. I was sent to the
Exeter Road school in the summer
of 1836, a mile from our house, and
more than half a mile from my
uncle's; but, beguiled by some boy
or girl, I ran up there after school,
against the injunctions of my sister
Helen, who had the care of me. I
remember this incident for two rea-
sons, — it was the only time I recall
seeing this uncle, and I was much
afraid of being whipped for my es-
capade. My uncle sat in the long
dining-room, in his sick chair, and
spoke to me in a pleasant manner,
while my aunt and cousins were in
and out of the quaint old room. I
became well acquainted with the
house afterward, but this was the
only time I saw my uncle in it. My

FRANK B. SANBORN.

sister Sarah, whose portrait at a
much later date is here given, came
up to take me home, and, I suppose,
held out prospects of punishment by
my father, for when I saw him, and
he sent me to wash my feet on the
bench at the back door, I had great
fears that a whipping would follow.
It did not, but my mother put her
tired son to bed with many injunc-
tions not to do such a thing again.

At this time, as near as I remem-
ber, I was a chubby boy, with long
light hair, which my Grandmother
Leavitt used to stroke with her soft
hand, and call me her " Httle Dr.
Franklin." I often visited her and
my corpulent grandfather, 'Squire
Tom Leavitt, living in the white
house near the hill, under the four
elms, and with his hives of bees be-
side the well, in full view from his
east door, near which he sat in his
justice's chair and read his news-
papers, or heard cases brought before
him as justice of the peace, an office
he held by constant appointment from
his first commission by Gov. John
Langdon in 1805 till his death in
1852. His three sons had married
and left home, and two of his daugh-
ters, my mother being the eldest ; so
that his house w^as kept by my Aunt
Hannah, then about twenty, assisted
by her mother, who soon became so
much an invalid that she could do
little except entertain visitors with
her pleasant conversation. The farm
was carried on by a hired man, — at
first David Forsyth, a Yankee, but
soon b}^ a north of Ireland Scotch-
man, John Cochrane, who remained
for many years.

"With this pleasant homestead many
of my most delightful recollections
connect themselves. I was a favorite

with all, and allowed the range of
the house, and the orchard, which in
summer and autumn abounded in
fruit. There were the bee-hives,
from which we got delicious honey,
and there were specialties in my
aunt's cooking which pleased me
more than what I had every day at
home. I was first carried there, so
far as I remember, in the winter,
with my father and mother, — I sit-

Sarah Elizabeth Sanborn.

ting wrapped up in the bottom of the
sleigh, — and as we glided along,
drawn by the horse of my own age,
or a little older, I noticed how the
stone walls seemed to run awaj'' back-
wards as we passed by. Occasionally
I spent the night at this house, and
distinctly recall the high-post bed-
stead, into the luxurious featherbed
of which I had to climb by a chair.
There, too, I met my cousins from
Boston, half a dozen city girls and
boys, who spent some part of their
vacations at their grandfather's, —

FRANK B. SANBORN.

one of them a boy a little older than
nij'self, with whom I learned to swim
in the small stream at the foot of the
hill.

I was often sent to carry the news-
paper to my political grandfather,
who, in return, sent us his agricul-
tural weekly, for he was a farmer
with specialties, such as the breeding
of Durham cattle and bee culture.

preferred to sit, and in front of which
he died in December, 1901. In the
corner opposite the fire stood the tall
old clock, and there was the book-
case near by, in which I found and
learned by heart two or three of the
plays of Shakespeare, and from which
I took my great-grandmother's " Scots
Worthies," with its biographies of
Knox and his associate Calvinists,

■■*i

,/' ,

Thomas Leavitt, Esq.

(1808 )

Hannah (Melcher) Leavitt.

He understood the latter better than
an5'body in town, and dealt with his
bees in a way that astonished boys,
who did not dare to go near the hives
for fear of being stung. In the win-
ter he lived by an open fire in a
Franklin stove, which came to me
afterwards, and furnished my poet-
friend Ellery Channing, during the ten
years and more that he lived in my
house, the cheerful blaze by which he

and the scandalous pamphlet of
Howie of lyochgoin, "God's Judg-
ments on Persecutors," aimed spec-
ially at the Stuart kings and their
instruments of oppression in Scot-
land.

The poetry in our Social lyibrary
did not much attract me as a child,
nor was it very good, but at a neigh-
bor's I found the poems of Burns,
and my brother Charles had an Amer-

in
a:
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a.
a.

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D
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o

X
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FRANK B. SANBORN.

ican editiou of Moore's "Melodies,"
on which I feasted, as I did on a
borrowed edition of Campbell's poems.
These introduced me to Walter Scott,
and one of my own first purchases
was a Philadelphia edition of the
" Waverley Novels," which I read
at the age of twelve with the greatest
delight. I had read, the " Scottish
Chiefs ' ' of Miss Porter earlier, and
an edition of ' ' Don Quixote ' ' in four
volumes, printed at Exeter in small
type, but easily read by young eyes.
Mrs. Radcliffe's "Romance of the
Forest " was another novel of which
I read the first volume only, and did
not learn till many years after how
the story came out, for my brother,
at a muster-field, where books were
sold by a peddler, bought two cop-
ies of the first volume, supposing
he had the whole book, and was
never able to match them with the
second.

All this time I was going to the
district school, and learning all that
successive teachers — young women in
summer, and young men in winter —
could impart to a boy who took to
studies of all kinds like a duck to
water. From my brother Charles I had
got a smattering of Latin before I was
ten, and at the age of eleven, a lively
young schoolmaster, D. W. Barber,
began to teach me Greek in the town
school. I learned the alphabet and
the declension of the Greek article,
but then my careful father declared
me too young for that study, and I
unwillingly gave it up. At the same
time I was learning all the common
activities of farming — riding the horse
to plow and rake hay, driving oxen,
planting and hoeing corn and pota-
toes, raking hay and weeding the
garden, taking care of the barn, chop-

ping wood, and a dozen other things
which a boy could do. The work
did not press, usually, and there was
plenty of time to learn shooting, at
first with bow and arrow and after-
ward with guns, and for playing the
simple games that country boys then
understood. Baseball, for instance,
— not then the angry and gambling
game it has since become, — and the
easier games of " one old cat," "two
old cat," and "drive," played with
balls; and "truck," played with a
solid wooden wheel, rolled over the
ground.

In such games girls did not join ;
and the game of cricket, which has
long prevailed in England, and in
which girls in school now take part
there, never was domesticated in New
England. But there were many less
active games in which girls in Hamp-
ton Falls participated. Such were
" Hy Spy," a hiding sport, where
one boy or girl stood at a tree, the
side of a building, or elsewhere, with
eyes covered, while the rest of the
children sought hiding places during
the half minute that the spy was
counting a hundred. Then they were
searched for, and when seen the one
who was " it" called out, " I spy,"
and both ran for the "gool," which
was the tree, etc., where the spy had
stood.. If the spy got there first, or
touched the one espied, he or she
was " it," and the game took a new
turn. This word " gool " for "goal,"
figured in another game, called indif-
ferently "gool,"' "tag," or "co-
ram ; " in this two spots were marked
and called "gools," between which
the children must run, and could be
' ' tagged ' ' or touched anywhere off
the gools. To decide who should be
the first catcher in such sports, a

FRANK B. SANBORN.

mystic rhyme was recited ; sometimes
this:

Eena, meena, mona mike,
Pestalahni, bony, strike,
Huldy, guldy, Boo !

A child was pointed at with each
word, and the first catcher was the
one on whom the fatal " Boo" fell.
Another and more elaborate incanta-
tion was this :

Wier, brier, limber lock,
Five mice all in a flock
Sit by the spring, and sing

O-U-T !

The last letter fell to the one who was
to be "it" in any game. Still
another rhyme began,

Intery, mintery, cutery corn,
Apple-seed, apple-thorn,

to which the rhyme just cited could
be added. In other games, like
"Thread the Needle" or kissing
games, these rhymes were chanted by
the little girls, who had better notions
of song than the boys,—

Uncle John is very sick.

What will you please to give him ?
Three good wishes.
Three good kisses.

And a pint of ginger.

Or else this, —

William Healey, so they say,
Goes a-courting night and day.
Sword and pistol by his side,
And Fanny Brown shall be his bride.

In each case the boy was to catch the
girl and kiss her if he could. In
"Thread the Needle," which, Uke
most of these sports, was very ancient
and traditional, like these rhymes
(though the latter had been much
changed in passing from one genera-
tion to another, never being written
down), the boys and girls formed an
alley by standing opposite and holding
hands above the head of the girl who

walked down this laughing alley, as
this verse was chanted —

This needle's ej-e no one can pass,

The thread it runs so true ;
It has caught many a pretty fair lass,

And now it has caught you.

At which last word the linked arms
of the last couple dropped down over
the head of the last girl, and she was
subject to be kissed by the boy of that
couple. These sports indicate how
early the natural relation of the two
sexes began to show itself in the sim-
ple community ; for the boys and girls
who taught me to play them could
not have been more than seven years
old when I learned the rhymes. A
little later came the sedentary games
for long evenings, — checkers, morrice
(which we called " moral "), fox-and-
geese, and the simplest forms of card-
playing. Chess came in later, and I
was twelve at least when I learned
that game of skill from the minister's
son in the parsonage across the green
Whist came about the same time with
chess, and was diligently pursued for
several winters, the boys meeting
round at each other's houses and
playing in the family sitting-room,
undei the eyes of the older people.
This, in my case, was the " clock
room," where still stands the tall
clock, one hundred and thirty years
old now, which was made by Daniel
Balch of Newburyport, and has kept
good time for five generations of San-
borns in the same corner. In other
houses we played in the long kitchen,
which was apt to be the family sitting-
room in winter, because better heated
than the rest of the house, before air-
tight stoves or furnaces came into
use. The parlor, or "best room,"
was seldom opened to the children,
except when ' ' company ' ' came to

FRANK B. SANBORN.

dinner or tea, or for the " nooning "
on Sundays, at which time our house,
being near the church, became the
resort of cousins, aunts, and distant
parishioners.

Already in my early boyhood, or
before, had begun that religious dis-
integration which gradually changed
the ancient unity of the town or par-
ish into a group of warring sects, dis-
puting more or less zealously about
infant baptism, original sin, eternal
punishment, the Trinity, and the
other points of contention among be-
lievers nominally Christian, and more
or less accepting the Bible as the lit-
eral word of God, both Old and New
Testaments.

The last town qlergyman who held
the whole population together around
his tall pulpit in Hampton Falls, was
Dr. Samuel Langdon, who came there
from the presidency of Harvard uni-
versity in 1780, shaking off the dust
of that ungrateful "society," as he
termed it, and burdened with the
debts contracted in the service of the
clergy and people of Massachusetts,
which the new commonwealth for sev-
eral years neglected to pay, and never
did pay in full. He was the most
learned person who ever lived and
died in the town, and one of the most
useful ; though his immediate succes-
sor, Rev. Jacob Abbot, who succeeded
him as my grandfather's nearest
neighbor, ser^^ed the community
longer, and with rather more of the
modern spirit. Dr. I^angdon was of
the later eighteenth century, parson
Abbot of the earlier nineteenth ; both
liberal, philanthropic, and devoted to
good literature.

Before Dr. Langdon's death, in
November, 1797, the revolting Bap-
tists had begun to secede from the

G. M.— 3

orthodox Congregationalists in other
towns, but hardly in Hampton Falls ;
while the Quakers, much more numer-
ous then, in the towns which made up
old Hampton, than they are now, or
have been in my time, had long ab-
sented themselves from the parish
meeting-houses.

Dr. Ivangdon brought together in
the church edifice, near his parson-
age, more than seventy families, and

Doctor Langdon's Headstone In Hampton Falls.

must have had, on pleasant Sundays,
if the weather was not too freezing for
the un warmed house, at least three
hundred hearers for his learned ser-
mons, expounding Romans or Reve-
lations. But it was rumored that he
was no Calvinist ; and if he chose his
successor, as probably he did, he must
have known that young Mr. Abbot
was Arminian, and did not insist on
endless damnation for a majority of
his parishioners. At any rate, such
proved to be the fact, and very soon
the Baptists began to hold meetings
by themselves, and protest against

FRANK B. SANBORN.

the ministerial tax collected by the
town authority and paid over to par-
son Abbot. A wealthy family of
Browns led off in this secession, which
in course of twent}' years again di-
vided, the original seceders calling
themselves "Christian " Baptists, and
leaving the Calvinists to organize a
church later at the "Hill" (as the
small village was called), and to con-
nect it with a special school, main-
tained by Baptists and known, during

or twenty years. My other grand-
father, Sanborn, and his elder son,
Joseph, also joined this society, and
the latter was its treasurer in 1832,
when the town's property in the par-
sonage lands was sold, and the money
(about $3,000) divided between the
four societies then existing. Some-
thing more than a fifth part went to
the Universalists, and the rest was
divided almost equally between the
still united Congregationalists and the

The Unitarian Church, Hampton Falls.

the twenty-odd years of its existence,
as " Rockingham Academy."

The secession of the Freewill or
Christian Baptists took place in 1805,
and included several who took that
mode of signifying their general dis-
sent from the "standing order" of
New England churches, without at-
taching anj' special significance to the
rite of baptism. Among these was
my grandfather Leavitt, who, ten
years later, headed a movement for a
Universalist society in the town, to
which he and his son-in-law, my
father, attached themselves for a dozen

two Baptist churches, the Christians
getting more than twice as much as
the " Calvin-Baptists." Now, seventj'^
years later, the Universalists have
merged in the Unitarians, the two
Baptist societies mostly in the Calvin-
ists, while the Congregationalists
have divided into Unitarian and Trin-
itarian, neither of them strong socie-
ties. In my boyhood the Universal-
ists had ceased to hold meetings, and
their church library had been divided
among the members, my father re-
ceiving as his share a two-volume
history of Universalism, a Life of John

FRANK B. SANBORN.

Murray (the Irish Methodist who first
preached universal salvation in Rock-
ingham county), and the sermons of
Elhanan Winchester, a " Restoration-
ist"; who, after preaching in New
England awhile went over to London
and founded what became the Fins-
bury Square Chapel, where W. J.
Fox, and after him my friend, Mon-
cure Conway, preached for long years.

There were other books from this
source ; but these attracted my boy-
ish interest, and b)^ reading them
—never having heard a sermon on the
subject — I became, at the age of nine,
a convinced Universalist. But I con-
tinued to frequent other churches, —
the Unitarian, near home, and the
Christian Baptists where now the
town library is. In the former I heard
good preaching, by educated men,
whose books I had read, or was to
read. Among the Baptists I heard
spontaneous religious utterances,
oftentimes from women ; while their
ministers, or "elders," were without
much education, but often of good
natural eloquence. At home I had
read the Bible from earliest years, so
that I could perhaps have said at the
age of twelve that I had read all its
books through twice ; of course with-
out much understanding of the mys-
tical or theological parts.

To a certain degree, these sec-
tarian divisions in religion repre-
sented political opinions also. The
"standing order" of Congregation-
alists had been patriots in the Revo-
lution, Federalists under Washing-
ton and Adams, and had become
"Whigs" under the classification
that I first remember. The seced-
ing sects, therefore, being at variance
with the parish ministers, took an
opposite side in politics ; as the Or-

thodox were Federalists, the Baptists,
Methodists, and Universalists became
Jeffersonian Democrats, — in my time
followers of Jackson and Van Buren.
Thus, in Hampton Falls, until the
Texas question made an issue among
these Democrats, the Christian Bap-
tists and Universalists, and some of
the Unitarians, were mostly Demo-
crats, while the Calvinists and most
of the Unitarians were Whigs, and
supported Harrison in the first presi-
dential election that I remember.
Even in 1839, at the age of seven, I
was taking an interest in politics, as
my father, grandfather, and elder
brother did. Charles, afterwards Dr.
Sanborn, subscribed, in his eighteenth
year, to the Congressional Globe, of
the elder Blair, and in that quarto
record of congressional proceedings I
became familiar with the names of
all the senators and congressmen,
and knew to which party they be-
longed. I even recall, though I was
but little more than seven, the ex-
citement caused by the shooting of
Cilley, Hawthorne's classmate, a
Maine congressman, by Graves of
Kentucky, in a quarrel originating
with Colonel Webb of the New York
Courier a7id Enqiiirer ; and I fol-
lowed with interest the contest for
the speakership in December, 1839,
which ended with the election of
Hunter of Virginia.

Then came on the noisy log-cabin
campaign between Van Buren in
power, but burdened with the lack
of prosperity in the country, and
Harrison, a military candidate (who
united in his rather insignificant per-
son, the elements of general discon-
tent), and the powerful leaders of
the capitalist party of Whigs, such
as Webster and Clay, Wilson of New

FRANK B. SANBORN.

Hampshire, and Evans of Maine.
Knowing nothin'g of the principles
involved (if there were any) I was a
warm partisan of Van Buren, while
the two sons of the new Unitarian
minister in the parsonage, Charles
and Henry Shaw, were ardent
Whigs, With Henry I had a bet
pending on the result, — no less than
the old "fourpence ha' penny,"
valued at six cents and a quarter, in
those da.y& of Spanish and Mexican
coins. I lost the bet, of course, but
my exultation was great the next
summer, when Tyler of Virginia, the
accidental president, vetoed the cur-
rency and tariff bills of Henr}^ Clay,
divided his party, and let the Demo-
crats come into power in the next
congress, — even carrying Massachu-
setts, or a good part of it. New
Hampshire valiantly supported Van
Buren, who, on the currency and
tariff questions, was right, as I now
view it, and steadily sent a solid
Democratic delegation to congress,
in both branches.

I saw little of the leaders in these
party contests, but Moses Norris,
who went to congress in 1843, was a
nephew of my Grandfather Leavitt,
and I remember seeing him in the
winter of i842-'43, when he was a
candidate, coming to our door in his
uncle's sleigh to make a call on my
mother. It must have been in the
summer of 1843 that I first saw his
associate, Franklin Pierce, afterwards
president, and I remember distinctly
how he looked and was dressed. It
was in the court house at Exeter,
where a criminal trial was going on,
and Pierce had come down from
Concord to defend Sara George, a
wild youth of Seabrook, who was
charged with burning his uncle's

barn. Of the merits in the case I
know nothing, and it is possible that
Pierce, who w^as district attorney for
New Hampshire about that time,
may have been prosecuting George
in the United States court, but I
think not. All that I recall is the
elegant figure and pleasing face of
the leading Democrat of the state
then, and for a dozen j-ears more.
He was wearing the fashionable dress
of the period, remembered now^
chiefly because Webster gave it a
dignity, — the blue coat with brass
buttons and the nankeen trousers
strapped over the slender boot. His
aspect was what Hawthorne after-
wards described in his campaign life
of General Pierce : " vivacious, slen-
der, of a fair complexion, with light
hair that had a curl in it ; his cheer-
fulness made a kind of sunshine, yet,
with all the invariable gentleness of
his demeanor, he perfectly gave the
impression of a high and fearless
spirit." Norris was of another
make, tall and large and dark, of
strength almost gigantic, and
naturally a leader, without the
graces of leadership. Neither of
them get full credit now for their
talents, because they were exerted
in the cause of human slavery,
its extension and perpetuation, yet
both were men of great humanity,
who would rather do a generous ac-
tion than a cruel one.

The contest over the slavery ques-
tion in New Hampshire began in the
winter of i844-'45, ^^^ i^ ^^Y very
neighborhood, for it was the Demo-
cratic member of congress from
Rockingham and Strafford, John P.
Hale of Dover, who revolted against
the dictation of Pierce, Atherton,
and Norris in regard to the annexa-

FRANK B. SANBORN.

tion of Texas. New Hampshire had
declared against slavery in 1820,
when both political parties had
united in passing resolutions in the
state legislature, declaring slavery
wrong and inconsistent with demo-
cratic institutions. The annexation of
Texas was favored chiefly by the slave-
holders and their political allies, and
the extension and protection of slavery
was sought to be guaranteed by this
expansion of our territory, at the risk
of war with Mexico. The New
Hampshire Democrats, following the
lead of Van Buren, had passed reso-
lutions again,st annexation, but the
South had carried its point in 1844,
nominated a Tennessee slaveholder
for president, rejecting Van Buren,
and their national platform favored
annexing Texas. Mr. Hale, who
had been nominated by the Demo-
crats for reelection to congress, came
out with a letter explaining his vote
against annexation.

The "Concord Regency," headed
by Pierce, demanded that he should
be dropped from the general ticket
and another man nominated. When
this was done, a few men in Kxetcr,
Portsmouth, the Hamptons, and that
neighborhood, called a public meet-
ing, which took place at Exeter in
February, 1845, and declared that
^'Independent Democrats" would
support Hale. They did so, to such
an extent that Woodbury, the sub-
stituted nominee, could not be
elected, and there was a vacancy in
the delegation till a coalition of
Whigs and Independents carried the
state in the election of 1846.

This contest brought my brother
Charles, then twenty-three years old,
into political activity, and made him
one of the younger leaders of the In-

dependent Democracy in that part of
New Hampshire. He had till then
been occupied wholly with farm
labors or with teaching, but had been
a wide reader of political and social
literature, and had many friends and
followers in the towns where he was
known.

Though but thirteen years old, I
sympathized entirely with him in his
views. I had been much indebted

Charles Heniy Sanborn (1846).

to him for aiding my education, out
of school, and teaching me much in
the use of tools and the art of shoot-
ing, in both of which he had made
himself more expert than I ever be-
came. He was a good cabinet
maker, self-instructed, a good
draughtsman," and in other ways
handy, which I was not, though
willing to learn. He had taught
himself Latin and French, and other-
wise had qualified himself beyond
what was common among the youth
of his time and place ; and he had

FRANK D. SANBORN.

an ambition, afterwards gratified, to
practice a profession. His experi-
ences of the heart had been unhap-
py ; the sweet girl to whom he was
attached having died before they
could be married.

In 1846 he became an assistant in
the office of the anti-slavery secretary
of state in Concord, and also aided

F. B. Sanborn (I 849), y€t. I 7^

in editing the party newspaper, the
Independent Democrat^ which did
much to turn New Hampshire from
the pro-slavery Democracy to what
was afterwards organized as the Re-
publican party.

His portrait, here engraved, was
taken in Concord at that time. It
represents him at the age of (nearly)
twenty-five, seriously handsome, and
much resembling his mother's family,

the Leavitts. My own first portrait
was taken three years later, when I
was seventeen, and both were called
good likenesses at the time.

It will be seen that the portrait
above is that of a scholar, or, per-
chance, a poet, rather than a finan-
cier. My finances up to the age of
seventeen were slender, and were
chiefly expended for books or maga-
zines. The}'^ were derived from small
paj'ments made to me for small labors
on the neighboring farms, or the care
of Widow Perkins' barn and wood-
shed ; which I had for the most part
until I entered college. To this were
added small tips from visiting cousins
or other persons who shared the am-
ple hospitalities of my father and
my two grandfathers ; and the sales
which I occasionally made of walnuts
gathered in October. When in my
twelfth year I visited Boston for the
first time, my pocket money must
have been supplied by my father ;
and was expended in part for an
American edition of " Hudibras,"
which I bought at a book-stall near
the Faneuil Hall market. I had
made the acquaintance of this hu-
morous poem by some citations in
"Newman's Rhetoric"; but was
much disappointed in the story,
which seemed to me, after " Don
Quixote," flat and tiresome. On this
visit I saw Adelaide Phillips (sub-
sequently a famous singer) in a
child's part at the Boston Museum,
long owned by Moses Kimball who
was my associate in later years.

[ To be continued.

COL. JAMES ROBERTS OF BERWICK, MAINE.

B}i John Scales.

Col. James Roberts was the son of
'Joshua and Ruth (Smith) Roberts.
He was born in Berwick, Me., 31
May, 1745. His father came to Ber-
wick from York, where he was born
and his ancestors had lived for sev-
eral generations. His mother was
the daughter of John and Elizabeth
Smith of Berwick. It is not known
that he was any relation to the Rob-
erts family of Dover.

When a boy, James Roberts was a
pupil of the famous schoolmaster,
John Sullivan of Somers worth, and
a schoolmate of John Sullivan, the
distinguished general in the Revolu-
tionary War, and of James Sullivan,
governor of Massachusetts. Under
the instruction of such a teacher, Mr.
Roberts must have acquired a good
education for that period. When he
was twenty-two years old he married
Martha Woodsum (9 July, 1767), and
to them were born several children.
The eldest of these, Mary, born 12
May, 1769, married Thomas Went-
worth, 16 Feb., 1790 ; and their Mar-
tha, born 4 April, 1795, married John
Ham of Dover (second wife), 14 May,
1837. Their only son is John Thom-
as Wentworth Ham of Dover, N. H.,
who was born 1 July, 1838.

The battles of Lexington and Con-
cord were fought 19 April, 1775.
The news of this affair reached Ber-
wick the next day and of course
caused great excitement. All the
able-bodied men were anxious to vol-

unteer to form companies to march
to Boston at once, but of course it
required some little time to organize
and equip the men. The second Pro-
vincial Congress of Massachusetts
issued a call, 23 April, 1775, for
troops, and York county, in which is
Berwick, responded promptly and
raised the first regiment of foot sol-
diers that was furnished by the dis-
trict of Maine, then under Massachu-
setts rule. The town of Berwick
raised two companies of 64 men each
for this regiment. This shows the
patriotic spirit that prevailed in the
town.

One of these companies was com-
manded by Ebenezer Sullivan, the
youngest son of Master Jolm Sullivan
and brother of the general. The
other company was commanded by
Philip Hubbard, and James Roberts,
who was his second lieutenant, was
very efficient and active in enlisting
men for the company, which, when
completely organized, was as follows:
Capt. Philip Hubbard 's Company.
Col. James Scammon's Regiment of

Foot, York County, District of

Maine.

Captain Hubbard was com-
missioned June 2, 1775, and his
descendants still have the original
document. When he entered the
service he was about fifty-seven years
old and had had considerable expe-
rience in the French and Lndian
wars. The following is tfie muster

COL. JAMES ROBERTS.

roll of the company, with time of en-
listment, under command of Captain
Hubbard, in August, 1775 :

Philip Hubbard, Captain, Berwick;
]\Iay 2.

'Jedediah Goodwin, 1st Lieut., Ber-
wick; May 2.

James Roberts, 2d Lieut., Berwick;
May 2.

Simeon Lord, Sergt., Berwick; May
2.

Joshua Nason, Sergt., Berwick;
May 2.

Richard Plummer, Sergt., Berwick;
May 2.

•Tristram Fall, Sergt., Berwick;
May 2.

Samuel Hubbard, Corporal, Ber-
wick; May 2.

Freethy Spencer, Corporal,, Ber-
wick; May 5.

Samuel Worcester, Corporal, Ber-
wick; May 5.

'Joseph Hubbard, Corporal, Ber-
wick; May 5.

Samuel Stevens, Drummer, Leba-
non; May 20.

Privates :

Moses Hubbard, Berwick ; May 5.
Aaron Goodwin, Berwick, May 5.
Moses Spencer, Berwick; May 5.
John Shorey, Berwick; May 5.
Benj. Row, Berwick; May 5.
Daniel Lord, Berwick; May 5.
Stephen Wood, Berwick, May 5.
Daniel Hubbard, Berwick ; May 5.
Jeremiah Lord, Berwick ; May 5.
Wm. Stone, Berwick; May 5.
Daniel Grant, Berwick; May 5.
James Wentworth, Rochester; May

5. •
Richard Perkins, Lebanon; May 5.
Benjamin Horsham, Berwick; May

Elisha James, Lebanon; May 5.
Wm. Davis, Berwick; May 5.
Benj. Goodwin, Berwick; May 5.
James Grant, Berwick; May 5.
Daniel Wadlin, Berwick, May 5.
Bartholomew Nason, Berwick; May

8.
Ichabod Smith, Berwick; May 8.
Abel Getchell, Berwick; May 8.
Walter Abbott, Berwick; May 8. .
Morrill Hobbs, Berwick; May 8.
Benj. Weymouth, Berwick; May 8.
Theophilus Abbott, Berwick; May

8.
Daniel Abbott, Berwick; I\Iay 8.
Simeon Lord, Jr., Berwick; May 8.
Aaron Hubbard, Berwick; May 8.
Moses Courson, Lebanon; May 15.
Dodifer Garland, Rochester; May

15.
Jonathan Garland, Rochester; May

15.
Nathaniel Blewett, Berwick; May

15.
Daniel Hodgdon, Berwick ; May 15.
Moses How, Berwick; May 15.
John Davis, Berwick; May 15.
Ralph Farnum, Lebanon ; May 15.
Thomas Downs, Berwick ; May 15.
Londrast Hearst, Berwick ; May 15.
John Pugsley, Berwick; May 20.
Francis Peiree, Berwick ; May 20.
James Smith, Berwick; May 20.
Ichabod Downs, Berwick; May 20.
John Cousens, Berwick; ]\Iay 20.
Jonathan Buroughs, Berwick; May

20.
Paul Welch, Berwick; May 20.
John Peiree, Berwick; May 20.
Joseph Goodwin, Berwick; IMay 20.
Gilbert Perkins, Lebanon ; June 28.
Silas White, Lebanon ; Aug. 12.
Moses Lord, Berwick; July 11.
Philip Hubbard, Jr., Berwick ; July

20.

COL. JAMES ROBERTS. 39

The origical roll, from which the The point of rendezvous was Ber-
above was copied, is in the Massa- wick, now South Berwick, and all
chusetts Archives, Vol. 15, page 33. had gathered there by Saturday-
Total, 64 men. All had guns and night, June 3. It is not recorded
all but one were supplied by them- what they did on Sunday, but they
selves. Only twenty-four cartridge started on the march at sunrise Mon-
boxes returned in the company and no day morning, June 5, and reached
bayonets. Hanson's tavern in Dover in season

There is one remarkable and note- for an early breakfast, and the pro-
worthy fact in connection with this prietor had everything ready to en-
company, and that is that Ralph Far- tertain the sixty-four men when they
num (Farnham) of Lebanon, who arrived. This tavern was what is
enlisted May 15, was the last survivor now called the old Dover hotel, and
of the soldiers who participated in the is o^^^led by the Misses Woodman. It
battle of Bunker Hill. He lived to stands at the "Corner," at the junc-
be one hundred and two years old tion of Hanson street and Central
and visited Boston and Bunker Hill avenue.

after he had passed the century From here they marched to Dur-
mark. He was received with great ham and halted for dinner at Win-
honors all along his journey. born Adams' tavern at the Falls.

Colonel Scammon's regiment This hostelry stood on the hill on the
marched to Cambridge in companies, east side of "Oyster River freshet,"
one following another, because it was and nearly south of where the SuUi-
not possible for the taverns along the van monument now stands. Mr.
line of march to accommodate a regi- Adams was then in the army and was
ment at one time, and the men had later colonel of a regiment. His
not the outfit for camping by the way. wife, the mistress of the house, was
Captain Hubbard's company was the daughter of Israel Bartlett of
the first to start on the journey. Nottingham, and sister of Col. Thom-
Each man had armed and equipped as Bartlett, one of the distinguished
himself with gun, powder, bullets, and men of New Hampshire in the Revo-
all that was deemed necessary to en- lution. After dinner they marched
gage in fighting the British army. As to Newmarket and put up at Doe 's
a matter of fact the dress and equip- tavern for the night. That place
ments were picturesque rather than was a small village then. Just
uniform. The housewives did not where the tavern stood I do not know,
all use the same dyestuff in coloring but it was somewhere near the falls,
the cloth, nor the tailors the same cut The reader, who has a lively imagin-
in making the garments; but all had ation and has had experience in feed-
the same uniform courage and desire ing and providing otherwise for a
to defend the rights and to preserve crowd of lively and hungry men, can
the liberties. None but the officers easily see what "mine host" Doe and
wore uniforms. The following is his wife had to do to meet the wants
the line of march pursued by Captain of that occasion.
Hubbard's company. Tuesday, June 6, they left at sun-

40 COL. JAMES ROBERTS.

rise and marclied to Exeter before toric Longfellow house. Tims, these
breakfast, where they halted at Gid- patriots had been four days in travel-
ding 's tavern and partook of the re- ing about seventy-five miles, over
freshments that were all ready for roueh roads, each man carrying his own
them, the proprietor having been baggage. They were paid one penny
duly notified of the time they would a mile, and free board at the taverns,
arrive. Resuming the march they The other companies follow in the
reached Parsons' tavern in Kingston same route from all points in York
and halted for dinner. The journey county, Me. So the regiment was
of the day was completed at Sawyer's well in camp before the affair at
tavern in Plaistow, where they lodged Bunker Hill, in which it took part.
for the night. On the day of the battle, June 17,

"Wednesday, June 7, they were out Colonel Scammon's regiment had to

of bed at daybreak and at sunrise be- march to Lechemere Point, East Cam-

gan their march to Haverhill, having bridge, opposite Charlestown. No

first partaken of liquid refreshments, sooner had he reached there than he

the common beverage of that period, was ordered to "Cobble Hill," later

At Haverhill they breakfasted at the site of the McLean Asylum. From

Greenleaf 's tavern. A heavy and vio- there, just after the noon hour, he

lent thunder shower- came up while was ordered to take his regiment

they were eating and delayed their across Charlestown Neck to Bunker

crossing the Merrimack till noon. Hill to join in the engagement against

hence Mr. Greenleaf had to furnish the British. As they crossed the

dinner for them. They crossed the Neck they were subjected to a severe

river and reached Stevens' tavern in cross-fire from the British gunboats

Andover about sunset, where they in the rivers on each side; but his

rested for the night. As they neared men did not flinch or halt in the

the seat of war the rumors of what march through shot and shell. Some

had happened and was expected soon of the men had seen service and had

to occur grew thick and interesting, been under fire in the French and In-

and kept the men talking till the old dian wars, but most of them were

god Somnus called them to sleep. smelling an enemy's powder for the

Thursday, June 8, found them up first time as they crossed that narroAV

and on the march at sunrise for Bal- neck of land. Lieutenant James

lardvale, where they took breakfast Roberts here had his fiirst experience

^^jiL-Deacon Ballard's tavern. In the in war, and was one of the bravest of

forenoon they marched to Wyman's the brave. The record says that when

tavern in Woburn, where dinner was they were in the hottest and most

served. In the afternoon they reached dangerous of this cross-fire Colonel

Wdtherby's tavern, in what is now Scammon shouted to his men :" Come

Arlington, and encamped for the on, my Yorkshire lads ! Let us show

night. our bravery!" The men responded

Friday, June 9, they marched to heartily; they went on, and they did

Cambridge and were ordered to en- show their bravery all right in the

camp near General Washington's thickest of the fight,

headquarters, of a later date the his- After the battle they returned to

COL. I AMES ROBERTS.

Cambridge and resumed their camp
duties near General Washington's
headquarters, engaged in the siege of
Boston. This regiment was a part of
the besieging army of 17,000 men,
who were encamped in a semi-circle
around that town. They lived in all
sorts of habitations, a few tents, but
mostly log-huts. Cambridge was a
village of 1,500 inhabitants with only
a few large houses like Washington's
headquarters. It was not a part of
the siege to attack the British in Bos-
ton, but to keep them from getting
out of it by any other way than by
their fleet which filled the harbor.
Washington expected they would
come out and attack him at any time,
night or day, so he had his men at all
times prepared to defend themselves
against any sudden sally that might
be made. This was the kind of work
that Lieutenant Roberts and his men
had to do, day by day, during the
siege.

The regiment had left York county
in such haste that the officers had had
no time in which to get their commis-
sions, but that proved to be all the
more fortunate for them, as they
finally got their papers signed by
Washington himself, instead of the
Massachusetts officials. It is said
that Lieutenant Roberts' commission
is still in existence with some one of
his descendants. Of course whoever
has it has a great prize with the auto-
graph of George Washington on it.
Lieutenant Roberts saw the great gen-
eral often, who is described as a man
six feet two inches tall; very muscu-
lar; large hands and feet; a Roman
nose ; blue eyes ; a fine, large head,
and his body in grand proportion
with his head; and he impressed the
observer as noble and lofty in spirit.

After Colonel Scammon's regiment
was through with the siege of Boston,
Lieutenant Roberts continued in the
service and rose through various
grades to that of colonel of a regi-
ment. He was prominent in town af-
fairs also. He lost his life in 1780,
while on a journey down the river to
Portsmouth.

One of the men in the company
kept a diary from which the writer
was able to trace the route of march
from Berwick to Cambridge. Scam-
mon's regiment was the "Thirtieth
Massachusetts Foot." The Thirty-
first was Colonel Edmund Phinney's
regiment of Falmouth and vicinity.
The Thirty-first marched to Cam-
bridge in July over the same route
through New Hampshire and Massa-
chusetts that has already been de-
scribed. Of course in passing through
Dover they did not always stop at the
same tavern, as there were several
here at that time.

One does not have to stretch his im-
agination very much to appreciate the
lively times the women of the taverns
had in cooking enough to satisfy the
wants daily of sixty or seventy hun-
gry men on their march to Cam-
bridge. They not only had to pro-
vide for those men from Maine, but
also for the companies in New Hamp-
shire on their way to the front from
the towns around J)over. The women
did not have any modern cooking
ranges to work with but had to do the
cooking over fires in open fireplaces
and in the huge ovens by the side of
the fireplace. All this work required
as much patriotism on the part of the
women as the marching and fighting
required of the men. No doubt there
was a good seasoning of fun mixed
with all the hard work that won

COL. JAMES ROBERTS.

American liberty for local self-gov-
ernment.

The writer has always taken special
interest in all that concerns the battle
of Bunker Hill, and no little pride
that his great grandfather was a pri-
vate in Captain Henry Dearborn's
company, Colonel John Stark's regi-
ment, at the famous "rail-fence."
, Captain Dearborn was a Nottingham
man, and later in life rose to be gen-
eral in the American army. About
the beginning of the nineteenth cen-
tury he published his recollections of
the battle and in it describes the
march over Charlestown Neck as fol-
lows:

"After completing the necessary
preparations (at Medford) for ac-
tion, the regiment formed and march-
ed about one o'clock. When it
reached Charlestown Neck we found
two regiments halted in consequence
of a heavy enfilading fire thrown
across it, of round, bar and chain shot
from the lively frigate and floating
batteries in the Charles river, and a
floating battery lying in the river
Mystic, Major McClary went forward
(from Stark's regiment) and ob-
served to the commanders (of the
halting regiments), if they did not
intend to move on, to open and let our
regiment pass. The latter was imme-
diately done. My company being in
front, I marched by the side of Col-
onel Stark, who mo\dng with a very

deliberate pace, I suggested the pro-
priety of quickening the march of the
regiment that it might sooner be re-
lieved from the galling cross-fire of
the enemy. With a look peculiar to
himself he fixed his eye upon me and
observed, with great composure :

" 'Dearborn, one fresh man in ac-
tion is worth ten fatigued ones ! ' and
he continued the advance in the same
cool and collected manner as before. ' '

It was just the same with Stark
when he began to fight the enemy at
the rail- fence covered with new mown
grass. When he saw the enemy land-
ing from the boats in Mystic river to
march up against the New Hamp-
shire troops, he marched out in front
of his men and stuck a tall stick in
the ground; he marched back delib-
erately to his line and gave orders for
his men not to fire till the British line
reached that stick. They obeyed his
order; the result is recorded in every
history; the British soldiers were cut
down as grass before a scythe. When
the British had reformed and were
again advancing. Stark gave orders
not to fire until they could see the
whites of the enemy's eyes; they did
so and the whole British line was cut
down as before.

Lieutenant James Roberts was not
in Colonel Stark's regiment, but he
was just as brave as Stark's men at
his post of duty.

VANITAS VANITATUM.
By A. T.

With winter nigh, a butterfly,

In the sun came floating by,

And, prophet-like, " O fool," said I,

" To some summer region hie.

Else to-morrow thou shalt die."

But looking then with prophet's eye,

Where Pleasure's train was passing by,

From my heart there came a sigh.

And turning on my way, said I,

" Man hath not yet become so wise

That he may preach to butterflies."

THE FRONT FENCE.

By Louis Milton Boody.

Uncle Dory had decided to paint thing ! Half on't black as sut with

the fence. • dust, and tother half jest like powder

" We hevsechderned mean weather — got some of the stuff on my good

here on this Cape Cod," remarked he; black britches, too. I don't care so

" nothin' but fog durin' this time of much for the britches, cos it didn't

year, and nothin' but a blisterin' hot do 'em any hurt, but Abigail gut

sun in the summer, thet paint, 'spec- mad as thunder."

ially white paint, gits to be no better At this juncture Abigail and her

than whitewash." daughter Hetty appeared at the

Uncle Dory was on his knees by door,

the front-yard fence, and, as he ad- "Theodore, you ain't a goin' to

dressed the foregoing remarks to me, paint thet fence with them pants on,

he gave force to his words by expres- air ye ? Now, Theodore, do be sen-

sive waves of the paint brush. sible."

"Jest look at thet confounded fence. "Well, Abigail, I think 'twould

Last spring I painted it with the best look better if I kept 'em on." Then

white lead and good linseed oil — fel- his tone changed perceptibly, as he

ler I bought it of said 'twas linseed continued in an explanatory manner,

oil, but I believe the derned stuff was "Abigail, I ain't a goin' to paint —

powgie oil. Now see the derned not what you 'd call reg'lar paintin'.

THE FR0N7 FENCE.

I 'm jest a goin' to cover a few
places."

Aunt Abby looked distressed.
"Theodore, you air such a trial.
You know you '11 be spattered with
paint from head to foot. Do for
pity's sake hev a little sense, and
change them pants ! "

The Captain's head went up and
lie gave a snort, "Abigail, you let
me paint this fence in peace. I 'm a
goin' to "keep these pants on."

Aunt Abby returned to the kitchen,
and Hetty followed after delivering
this parting shot: "Father, I think
you are real unlikely."

"Huh!" sniffed the Captain,
"unlikely! Ain't thet jest like a
woman ? Unlikely ! Ged, I 'd like
to know who 's gut a better right
than me to say whether I 'm goin' to
wear these pants or not ! But, then,
yer can't reason none with a woman.
No, sirree, yer can't never tell a
woman nothin'.

" Now there 's my darter Hetty —
good girl as ever was — hed a good edu-
cation — graduated right here at that
school yer see over yender — school-
marster said he never hed a smarter
scholar. But she 's been teachin'
school now fer a year. Thinks she
knows all about everything now.
Been livin' over to Southbay, j^er
see, en' gut a lot of dern-fool notions
in her head.

" She don't like white paint — sez
'taint the thing now to hev yer house
painted white. 'Taint artistic, she
says. En' what Hetty sez Abigail
will swear to. Ged ! I don't know
nothin' nowadays. What I say don't
count. Jest as sure as I say a word,
why Hetty puts her head back, en'
kinder gives a little sniff en' sez with
reg'lar quarter-deck air, ' Father, you

don't know. Styles hev changed.' "

The light of battle shone in the
Captain's eye.

"Don't know! Don't know ! Hm,
don't know ! P'raps I don't know.
Ged, I follered the sea, man and boy,
for fifty odd year. Shipped as cook
at ten year, and been mate and mars-
ter of a vessel, but now, Ged ! Hetty's
captain, Abigail's first mate, en' I 'm
workin' before the mast, with the
whole focsle all to myself. Styles
hev changed — yes, sir, styles hev
changed. They didn't hev no sech
derned, cussed-fool notions, when I
was a boy, as they do now.

" Show ! My Godfrey dominy !
thet's the ruination of this whole
country. Show ! Show ! Huh,
show ! Nothin' but show ! Hetty
wants a meckintosh — hed one two
year ago, but 'taint the style now —
so she sez.

"Now thet meckintosh is jest as
good as ever 'twas — don't fit quite
so good as it did once, of course, fer
Hettj^'s fleshed up some, but 'twill
keep rain off jest the same.

" But then, what 's the use of talk-
in' ! Talkin' is derned poor business
when yer run afoul of a woman, 'spe-
cially if thet woman is Abigail or
Hetty — might jest as well shet up
when either of them begins to talk.
I tell yer what 'tis, a man thet hez
two women folks at home hez gut to
sail prett}' clost to the wind.

"Well, we ain't all built alike-
some thinks one way en' some an-
other. Thet makes me think of a
feller thet used to live here in the
village — lised to go mate with Cap'en
Josh Hillerson.

"Well, the feller gut to goin'
'round one winter to dances en' sech
like, en' after a while he begun to

THE FRONT FENCE.

take a shiue ter Susan Bigsbee, old
Cy Bigsbee's darter — derned pretty
girl, too.

"Well, the}^ was engaged, en'
'twas understood thet when he gut
back from the next vyge they 'd be
tnerried. Things in this world is
mighty uncertain, "specially mer-
riage.

" Yer see, the feller went whalin' —
shipped along with a New Bedford
cap'en, en' 'twas nigh onto three
years en' a half afore he hove in sight
agin. Ged, didn't he look fine! I
recollec' the fust time I see him com-
in' down the street after he gut back.
He hed a blue coat en' yeller pants —
but I 'm gettin' ahead of my story.

" Sue Bigsbee was a good enough
girl, but — well, she was about like
other girls, if yer know what thet is.
Give me a good vessel en' a decent
crew, en' I can do a thing or two,
but I don't know nothin' about a
girl. Ged, I never set up to be a
connoshicr on the subject of girls.

" Well, fer a time after the feller
went away Sue was pretty dumpish
- — didn't go nowhere nor seem ter
care fer nothin' — seemed kinder lone-
some en' off color — lovesick, I sup-
pose. Well, she run on thet way fer
a week or two, en' then she took an-
other tack. Mopin' want never in
her line, en' I guess she overdid it.
Anyway, all of a sudden she come
out of mournin' — so ter speak — en'
was as lively as ever.

" Ged, I had n't ought ter be wast-
in' my time tellin' yarns en' this
fence not touched yet ! Abigail en'
Hett}' will keelhaul me if they come
en' find me runnin' on like a sea-
lawyer tTiis way- — might as well finish,
though, now I 've begun.

" 'Twas pretty nigh on ter six

months or so when a feller come down
here from Boston — a slick lookin'
cuss, he was, too — buj'in' up cram-
b'ries fer the firm he worked fer.
Somehow he happened ter git ac-
quainted with Sue Bigsbee, en' —
well, as I said, yer can't ever tell
nothin' about a girl. Soon 's she
saw him, with his shiny shoes en'
standin' collar en' pretty neckties en'
sech, the fat was all in the fire. He
hung on here en' he hung on till
he'd bought every cramb'ry in the
town, en' he en' Sue was tergether
the whole endurin' time.

"Yer know how sech things turn
out — they thought they could n't live
without each other — thet fust affair
was all a mistake, yer know, en' so
on— yer know how girls talk.

"Well, he went back ter Boston,
en' arter a while thej^ was merried
en' went away ter live — I guess 'twas
a good match, too. Them en' their
two children was down here last sum-
mer — they 've gut two of as likely-
lookin' children as you ever see — a
boy en' a girl.

" When it come time fer the other
feller to git back, people was kinder
wonderin' how he 'd take it. Yer
see, he had n't heard nothin' about
it, fer when a feller goes off whalin' yer
can't always tell jest exactly where to
reach him by writin', so he don't git
much news from home. There want
nobody on the train coniin' down
from Boston thet knew him, en' so he
didn't hear nothin' about it until he
was ridin' over on the stage from the
deepo.

"Jimmy Smith, the stage driver,
told me about it. He said they was
a drivin' along, talkin' of this en'
thet — things thet had happened while
he was gone — lots of things happen

THE FRONT FENCE.

when a feller's away on a whalin'
vyge, I tell yer. Jimmy sez they
was along by the old Joe Kent place,
when the feller said, kinder quiet:

" 'How's Sue lookin'?'

"Jimmy said it kinder took him
back a bit, but he answered some-
thin' or other. Feller kinder suspi-
cioned somethin' was wrong, en' he
begun to ask questions. Jimmy held
back as best he could, but when they
gut into the village, the feller sez :

" 'Jimmy, yer keepin' somethin'
back from me, en' I don't git out of
this stage till yer tell me what 'tis
yer holdin' back.'

' ' En' then Jimmy told him. Well,
sir, Jimmy sez the feller jest set
lookin' quiet-like out over the fields,
en' keepin' mighty still fer a time,
en' then he sez :

" 'Air yer tellin' me the truth,
Jimmy? '

" "God's truth,' said Jimmy.

"The feller looked down at the
wheels fer a minute or two, en' give
a sigh, then he bust out into a laugh.
Jimmy sez thet laugh made his skin
crawl.

" 'Well, there's more than one
Sue in the world,' said the feller.

"Well, sir, I'll be derned if he
didn't go next day en' propose to
Sue Baker. He told her he never
cared fer Sue Bigsbee, anyhow, en',
womanlike, she believed him. They
was married within a month.

" Well, as I was a sayin', some
thinks one way en' some another."

'.'Theodore," came a voice from
the house, " air 3'ou a goin' to open
them oysters fer dinner? "

" Yes, yes, Abigail, I 'm a comin'."

"Guess I'll hev to paint thet
derned fence next week," remarked
the Captain to me.

SPORTSMEM . . .

I do everything in Taxidermy. Send me your
trophies for mounting. Deer Heads a Specialty.

5end for Price List.

GEO. P. WELLINGTON,

The Reliable Taxidermist,

EAST JAFFREY, N. H.

RUMFORD PRINTING COMPANY,

^vintetr0, QSinb(^v0^

Railroad Square

CONCORD, N. R

MR. BAYNES AND "JIMMY," THE BLACK BEAR CUB.

The Granite Monthly.

Vol. XXX Vn. AUGUST-SEPTEMBP:R, 1904. Nos. 2-3.

ERNEST HAROED BAYNES.

By George I. Putnam.

Photos by Mr. Baynes except when stated otherwise.

"Hadn't you better inquire the Baynes the young men will again
way ? " saj^s your Companion for per- hold up their heads. The large pub-
haps the twentieth time that morning, lie that has been enjoying his nature
" Here 's a pretty good looking house stories and studies in the past months
coming — " will be glad to know something of his

" If you mean any reflection on the very interesting personality,

speed of this horse," you reply with A young man just reaching the

dignity, "by attributing mobility to fresh and able maturity of the early

such objects as houses, I shall get out thirties ; medium height ; stout

and walk and compel you to drive, enough to suggest strength ; spare

As good a horse as there is in the enough to prove the endurance of the

county, the liveryman told us — " wiry athlete ; built for speed and car-

" 'T is a small county, and a poor." rying himself with the perfect poise

" I '11 inquire," says you, preparing of a happy physical training; face

to alight in the dooryard of the neat, showing the pleasant lines impressed

red-painted cottage. Some one came by sun and wind as he carries his

out to meet us, and the some one was studies afield ; a thatch of brown,

the man we sought. We had reached graying hair ; his face and body the

the Haven Cottage, in Croydon, and reflex of a mind that is active, dis-

met its occupant, Ernest Harold cerning, well trained. A genial man-

Baynes, who welcomed us with the ner that places you on friendship's

kindly manner that is the key to his footing instantly, and a cheery voice

success with all the lower animals, that entertains you with story-bits

man included. and ends of experience in his work

Mr. Baynes has been spending the with birds and animals. These things
summer on the eastern border of the mark the man whose success in the
famous Corbin Park, in Sullivan field of nature study has won him a
county. New Hampshire, and is now wide public, together wnth recogni-
domiciled for the winter in Meriden, tion from that veteran, John Bur-
near the northern end of The Park, roughs, and other of the old time
Sullivan county has gained some little leaders. Mr. Baynes follows the work
public attention recently by reason of from heart's choice ; his efforts are
its many smart and agile centenari- sincere, his descriptions honest. There
ans ; but with the coming of Mr. is a dependability about the man that

ERNEST HAROLD DAYNES.

"Isaac,'' the Turkey Vulture.

runs through all his undertakings,
and gives them permanence.

" Where are the ' critters ' ? " says
your Companion, trying to look dis-
appointed. " We expected to see all
manner of fish, flesh and fowl on the
fin, foot and wing submitting to your

guidance round the place. Where
are they ? "

" All around us," was the prompt
reply. "They are a good deal like
children ; they never show off well
before company. But we '11 see what
we can find."

So we submitted to his guidance,
and sought the children with due
care. For aught we could see we
were as amiable in appearance as Mr.
Baynes himself ; yet feathers and fur
flew to greet him, and shunned us as
if we were the plague. We felt a
secret aspiration to form ourselves on
him, but the attempt seemed hope-
less ; and a little later we decided not
to interfere with him in au}^ degree.
That was when, after stationing us at
a safe distance and out of sight of the
enemy even, he boldly approached
the lair of an old lady skunk who, as
he said, was " fixed ready for busi-

The Haven Cottage and Croydon Mountain.

ERNEST HAROLD BAYNES.

Photo, by L. B. Baynes.

Mr. Baynes and His Tame Fox, "The Sprite.

aiess," detached one of her young
from her maternal breast, and brought
the little black and white baby to us
in his hand for our wonder and admi-
ration. Nothing unpleasant trans-
pired, and we wondered and ad-
mired. Joshua's feat of compelling
the sun to stand still may have been
more far reaching in its consequences,
but it seems no more wonderful than
to compel the mother skunk to stay
her hand, as it were, in defense of her
litter. Moreover, we know that this
was done. Joshua's feat has been
questioned.

The barn was in use as a hospital.
A lame robin ej^ed us from the win-
dow-sill, his only apparent interest
being whether or not we brought him
a worm. A cynical and despairing
coyote in a stall nursed a leg that the
young foxes had chewed, and dreamed

of the freedom of his forbears on
western prairies, forever unattainable
for him. A flying squirrel showed
the most lovable disposition imagina-
ble, sitting in Mr. Baynes' hand and
accepting peanuts from strangers
with charming confidence. He sub-

' The Sprite" as a Youngster.

ERNEST HAROLD BAYNES.

Mr. Baynes' Present Home Near the Northwest Gate of the Blue Mountain Forest.
Buffalo Herd in Foreground.

mitted to any amount of handling by
those experienced hands, while the
peculiarities that give him his name
were shown and described.

Across the road, on a daisy-dotted

Adult Bull Buffalo.
One of the Corbin Herd.

slope and in the cool edge of a wood,
were a number of big wire crates, in
each of which some pent-up denizen
of the wild temporarily acknowledged
the sovereignty of man as exempli-
fied in the person of Ernest Harold
Baynes. In this one, fox kittens ; in
another, a wolf ; a mature fox in the
third, and a fourth claimed by a vul-
ture that flew the length of his cord
and flopped heavily upon the ground.
While a young bear, rejoicing in the
name of "Jimmy," ambled about at
will, scorning cages, making short
forays into the wood and up trees, but
returning with commendable faithful-
ness to Mr. Baynes whom he had
quickly learned to recognize as the
source of bread and milk and other
things good for young bears. The
Companion was well convinced of the
existence of "critters," — he had in-
clined to skepticism before starting —
and we made our way back to the cot-

ERNES 7 HAROLD BAYNES.

tage accompanied by as many mem-
bers of the Happy Family as were not
detained by cords and cages.

We were particularly interested in
the fate of the fox, which Mr. Baynes
said was soon to be turned loose to
shift for himself.

"You wouldn't sell him?" we
asked.

" Yes, if I could get my price," he
replied, brazenly. " Several men
have asked what that was, and I al-
ways give them the same figure —
one million dollars — no more, for he
is n't really worth it ; no less, for
moral reasons." Then he became
earnest. "As a fact, the fox has
earned his liberty. He has helped
me earn my money — he has given me
my studies, and has posed for character
in my stories. He has had nothing
in return. All he wants is his natu-
ral liberty, and that he is going to
have."

A Broad-Winged Hawk.

We demurred a little, for we had
mental visions of a fox, robbed by
captivity of his ability to compete
with other animals in the wild, falling

Photo, by L. B. Bay?ies. Mr. Baynes and His Tanae Prairie Wolf, "Romulus.

ERNES 7 HAROLD BAYNES.

Young Raccoons at Home.

a victim to their relentless natures ;
or of a fox, tame and trusting, trotting
with unsuspected feet up to a man
with a gun. But Mr. Baynes held
there was no danger, — for the fox.

" Farmers tell me," said he, " that
the tame fox is the worst fox. He is
slyer than any other, and he is bolder.
He will rob a henroost more openly
and successfull3^ In fact, his opera-
tions become depredations. His natu-
ral war is on weaker animals than
himself, and he will not suffer when I
turn him loose in the park."

So we saw that the real danger was
to Mr. Baynes, and not the fox ; that
farmers would protest against the
taming of " varmints," which might
then be freed and become the worst
sort of pests. We all know what the
" embattled farmers " are capable of
when they take a stand ; so we trem-

Fawn of White-Tailed Deer in July.
Showing the Protective Value of the White Spots at this Season.

ERNEST HAROED BAYNES.

bled, a little, for the enthusiastic trees is a lake and beyond that the

naturalist who would spare the life of heights of the Park mount up and up,

a single fox and ruin for some farmer's ever clothed with trees, until the lofty

daughter the income of her poultry line cuts the sky and shuts the west

yard. We still count, however, on away. One may look and look, and

the qualities of redemption held by never tire, for the land returns swiftly

Fawn of White-Tailed Deer in September.

the farmer's son and a handy shot-
gun.

The Haven Cottage that Mr. Baynes
occupied is one of those surprising
houses that keeps its pleasant places
for the intimate guest. You might say
it has turned its back on the highway
with its passers, and keeps its face for
the hidden side, turned towards the
glories of the great Park. There
is a wide, high veranda on this side,
and the Park fence runs by at a rod's
distance. Beyond the first fringe of

to its virgin state, and the green-clad
folds of the hills inspire restful
dreams. The mountain curve en-
closes as an ampitheatre ; north, west
and south the upraised world-crust
rims you round, melting in distance
to deep blue, coming nearer into
hopeful green, making a blissful soli-
tude in the centre of which nestles
the red cottage with the white high-
way ribboning by unheeded. Here
one denies the existence of the flesh
and the devil, believing only in a

ERNES 7 HAROLD BAYNES.

spotless world. Here one who is
weary may grow strong ; here also a
naturalist may find the most secret
and intimate heaven of his desires.

One immediate result of Mr.
Baynes' stay in New Hampshire has
been the arousing of his interest in
the American Buffalo. With him,
this means action, and he is already
deep in the effort to arouse public
opinion and sentiment to the necessity
of preserving this noble animal from

ing the small wild animals of that civ-
ilized section, and attaining knowl-
edge upon which he both writes and
lectures most instructively and enter-
tainingly. While he has by no means
exhausted this field of study, his
desire to widen the field has led him
to make New Hampshire his home
at present. The privileges of the
great Corbin Park have been freely
given him, with full power to hunt
therein with all the weapons he de-

Mrs. Baynes Feeding "Actaeon," tne Fawn.

extinction. Corbin Park contains a
fine herd of buffalo, and, taken in
connection with other herds scat-
tered through the country, gives
strong hope of future success. One
of Mr. Baynes' most interesting lec-
tures is upon the buffalo, and this, in
connection with his earnest and con-
vincing writing, is surely working to
the result desired. It is a magnifi-
cent object, and worthy of his best
endeavors.

For some years Mr. Baynes has
been doing most excellent work at
his home in Stoneham, Mass., study-

sires. As his weapons consist of
field glasses, camera and note-book it
is easily seen that the game will not
suffer by his presence ; while his
studies of elk, deer, moose, buffalo
and wild boar in a state of nature will
certainly enrich man's present knowl-
edge. For he is doing good work,
and doing it well. It is a work that
demands to be done, for mankind
needs it. It is of high importance.
When you consider, men have for a
few generations been getting away
from nature, wearing black broad-
cloth and living in cities. It has

OUR ''OLD HOME WEEK:'

remained for this generation to un- that Mr. Baynes has done is a guar-
derstand in some measure the folly of anty of the work he will yet do ; he
this, and to seek a return to the soil, brings fitness to the work, and the
Pioneers must go ahead and blaze out field is ample,
the way to this new-old land, encour-
age the revival of simple living,
of belief in good old Mother Earth
and her cures for man's ills, of inter-'
est in the natural life that ever shuns
the cities, of love for the beasts, of
kindness towards them, of a broader
human sympathy than has been prac-
tised. Here is work for those who
understand what is needed, for those
who hear the call with comprehen-
sion, who have the physique and
the courage to endure. The work Young fox Yawning.

OUR "OIvD HOME WEEK."

By Ellen Burpee Farr.

(Read at Bow, N. H., Aug. 25, 1904.)

New Hampshire's children, roaming wide.
In many a clime, the earth around,

Will hear the summons to abide

For this rare time, with joy profound.

And with light hearts, will gladly seek
Their " native soil "

For "Old Home Week."

Our Farmer, from the grand, broad West,
Forsakes his " miles and miles " of corn.

And hies him straight, with eager zest.
Back to the state where he was born.

And fun is there, when " Greek meets Greek,'
And he " swaps yarns "

In "Old Home Week."

The Lawyer leaves the city's din.

Where piles of brick and stone, uprear.

And with his client's hard-earned " tin,"
Comes back to freedom, year by 3^ear.

So for this time, for him bespeak,
A glad release

For "Old Home Week."

58 OUR ''OLD HOME WEEK.

> )

The Doctor lets his patient "live

Forgets that " calls " are part of life,

And for a time dares all to give
A respite to his world of strife.

Of him beware I Lest he should seek
To save your life

In "Old Home Week."

Our " Politician " drops his artful " wiles,"
Forgets that " Candidates " were ever born.

And with the " other party," jokes and smiles.
The future holds for him no times forlorn,

While he goes forth, with conduct meek,
To swell the crowd

In "Old Home Week."

Of boys and girls, there comes a crowd,
With elders in their youthful train,

Than whom no parents are more proud.
As with their kin, they meet again.

What gay old pranks, these youngsters seek !
What fun for them

In "Old Home Week."

So " down the line " we search and call
For those old friends, whom once we knew.

New Hampshire greets them, " one and all,"
And bids them come, the " tried and true."

But what of those who may not speak.
Or hear your call

For " Old Home Week"?

How many such will not respond !

Their souls heed not the calls of life.
Today, they 're in the " Great Beyond,"

Far from the cares of mortal strife.
So let them rest ! No longer seek.

Or wish them back

For "Old Home Week."

And some who cannot heed the call,

Would gladly meet with you once more.

Send out to them, what e'er befall —
Those absent ones, whose fate deplore !

And for them all your love bespeak,
With kindly thoughts.

For " Old Home Week.

) !

So, far from my home, in Sunset land,
A " Greeting " speeds upon its wa3\

For "memories " crowd on every hand.
Recalling many a happy day

With those whom you will vainly seek
To join with you

In "Old Home Week."

Shoreline Sketches.

THANKSGIVING.

By H. C. Leslie, M. D.

" Man alive ! " said Captain Somes,
one night when I had presented the
proposition that I must return to my
city quarters, " I don't want you to go
until after Thanksgiving. I am getting
to be an old man and have no near rela-
tives or children and when this day
comes around, it is a pretty lonesome
thins: for Marm and I to sit down and
gnaw a turkey bone alone. Of all the
blessings that Providence sends I think
the great big old-fashioned family is
about the best. I do n't know of any
word in the English language that has a
more solemn sound than — alone.
When my neighbors' sons and daughters
come trooping back to the old home on
this occasion, I feel that I have been
deprived of a good deal in life."

That period of time ordinarily devoted
to summer vacations had long since
passed. From mountain hostelry and
seaside resorts the children had returned
to their schoolrooms and the business
man to his desk, and still I lingered at
Shoreline.

The trees along the river bank that
bore the foliage of June, when I first
saw them, had passed through various
stages of transformation, the dusty tint
of midsummer, the painted glories of
autumn, and now with every gust of
wind were sending their discarded deco-
rations to float on the swift-running
tide. The nights had grown chilly and
in the early morning the dry grass in
the yard rustled and crackled beneath
the feet with the tune of frost. The
river bank had already borne its first

silver fringe of thin ice, breaking up
and floating away in the current with a
chime and jingle of music, which would
have been pleasant had it not been a
prophecy of a sterner grip when it
would not yield to wind and tide. Above
in the cold gray of the sky the long ir-
regular lines of wild geese seeking a
more hospitable clime betokened the
coming of a period of inclemency.

I had from time to time fixed a date
in my mind when I would pack my
belongings and return to my studio.
Some new attraction would, however,
present itself. Some varying tint of
light and shade on the river. Some
subtle unknown influence, and the day
was indefinitely deferred. It was not
altogether the appeal of nature that in-
fluenced me. I had no home of my own
and even in childhood had been bereft
of tender associations, clustering around
the paternal hearthstone, so that the
kindly unostentatious welcome to a seat
by Captain Somes' kitchen stove was a
nearer approach to such comforts than
I had previously enjoyed.

Friendships are not always the growth
of years. There is a mental telegraphy
that oftentimes tells us on the first
meeting that here is one whom we have
heretofore missed in the by ways of life,
who possesses, characteristics for which
we have felt the need to complete our
happiness. Such had been my experi-
ence in Shoreline. The daily associa-
tion with its people, their simple, pleas-
ant lives, undisturbed by the rise and
fall of stocks in the market place,

THANKSGI VING.

genial, sincere, honest ; these words
mean so much to one who has seen the
selfishness of human cattle in larger
fields, that the touch of unglazed, un-
varnished kindliness is a constant pleas-
ure. Unfortunately the smile that has
not beneath it some ulterior motive is as
rare as the diamonds of Golconda and
almost as priceless.

When the Captain gave me the invi-
tation to stop over for this crowning
event of the season's pleasure there was
a ring and tone of voice that somehow
conveyed more than the words them-
selves and as it required but little to tip
the balance in favor of staying, I decided
to remain.

To New England alone belongs the
custom and observance of Thanksgiv-
ing Day. Here it originated and here
transpired the events which gave cause
for its being. History has engrossed
the story on its pages, and the veriest
tyro of a school boy can give the origin
of the festival. The sons and daugh-
ters of Pilgrim stock have carried more
or less of the sentiment to wherever
they may have made their homes, but
beyond the confines of New England it
is a hot-house flower of forced growth ;
here it is spontaneous in development.

The poet Whittier must have had in
mind this New England festival when
he wrote the description of the wedding
feast of Weetamoo in the " Bridal of
Penacook," for surely nowhere else
could have occurred the suggestion for
such a scurrying together of good things
for the delectation of the animal man :

Bird of the air and beast of the field,
All which the woods and waters yield
On dishes of birch and hemlock piled
Garnished and graced that banquet wild.

At almost any hour of the day, in
the fortnight preceding the day set apart
by the Governor of the Commonwealth

for the observance of these festivities,
the Captain could be found in the
kitchen arrayed in a wonderfully check-
ered apron covering the protruberance
supposed to contain his digestive appa-
ratus, and extending nearly to his feet,
stoning raisins, chopping mince meat
and paring pumpkins, or such other culi-
nary preparations as preceded the
event.

He had written to his niece in Boston
who occupied the position of book-
keeper in a mercantile firm in that city,
as well as to the schoolmaster in Exeter,
and received favorable replies from
both. His injunction to the latter indi-
vidual, not to forget his fiddle, betok-
ened more than an ordinary element of
hilarity. From sly inuendoes casually
dropped I judged that the meeting of
the Captain's niece with the young
schoolmaster was a matter of exceed-
ingly personal interest to them.

The afternoon preceding Thanksgiv-
ing Day the schoolmaster made his ap-
pearance, rosy and red from a long
walk across the hills from Exeter, His
hearty greeting should have compensated
him for his rough journey on the un-
even roads of Kensington, but in answer
to a look of inquiry the Captain said,
" Sadie will be up with Newell Harden
the last trip tonight," thus tacitly ad-
mitting the particular attraction that
was to recompense him for his long and
dreary walk in the sharp November air.
"All mankind loves a lover," and the
Captain's smile as he made this state-
ment proved that he was no exception to
the general rule.

During the two weeks prior to this
occasion the Captain's old dory made
numerous trips to the Port to procure
the condiments supposed to be neces-
sary in compounding the various dishes.
He even went so far as to visit the cider-

THANKSGIVING.

mill at the Buttonwoods and secure a
keg of Tom Page's best sweet russet
cider. This apparent lapse from abso-
lutely strict temperance principles was
only made on the repeated assurance of
Mrs. Somes that it was utterly impossi-
ble to make good mince pies without
boiled cider, and moreover there was
the apple sauce to go with the dough-
nuts and cheese to be thought of. The
Captain drew a long sigh as he started
on this mission, well knowing of the re-
peated statements he would he required
to make in reply to the sly inuendoes of
his cronies with regard to secret bibu-
lous habits. When the Captain returned
from this unwilling trip Jake Short stood
on the wharf and cheerfully assisted in
landing the cargo. " Gor ram him,"
said Capt. Jared, " he is always hanging
round where he ain't wanted."

At one time in the early history of
Newbury, Vt., when the Inanksgiving
Proclamation was read in church, one of
the members gravely arose and stated
that there was not a drop of molasses in
town and as his boys had gone to south-
ward to procure a supply he moved that
the celebration be postponed until their
return ; which was accordingly done.
No such untoward event occurred to
mar Captain Jared's plans, and all things
went as merry as the traditional mar-
riage bell.

The sun arose Thanksgiving morning
bright and clear but almost immediately
slipped behind a gorgeously illumined
cloud. A sure sign according to the
Captain's standard of predictions that
it would storm before night. Long be-
fore the church bell sent forth its appeal
for devotional exercises, the sky had
become overcast and the wind echoed
the somber notes presaging the change.
The scattered few who responded to the
call of duty hurried along the bleak

street holding their wraps close about
the face. Attractive indeed would be
the discourse on such an occasion that
would rival the housewives' considera-
tion of the condition of the turkey, left
to assume its most delectable flavor in
the oven at home, and very popular was
the preacher who had the good judg-
ment to deliver an abbreviated ser-
mon.

The Captain evidently did not feel the
need of spiritual comfort and made no
effort to respond to the call of the bell
and accompany Mrs. Somes to the place
of worship. His frequent trips to re-
plenish the fire and carefully examine
the conditions inside the oven door
might have subjected him to the same
reproof as the one of old who gave too
much attention to the affairs of this
world. His conscientious ministrations
were amply rewarded and when Mrs.
Somes returned home from her enforced
period of rest the long table was in
proper position and ready to receive its
burden of smoking viands.

The Arab of the desert shares his
pinch of salt with the traveler, beneath
the folds of his tent, in token of friend-
ship. The wild Indian of the far West
when he invites the wayfarer to a seat
within his lodge and bids him partake
of his pot of meat precludes all ideas
of treachery, and gives a guarantee of
friendly regard. In a like manner the
New England Thanksgiving table is an
emblem of love and kindly feeling.
Here are gathered the few of all the
wide world most dear to the host. The
ceremonials of state functions have no
part or place at this gathering. The
hired waiter, the obsequious servant is
not in keeping with the event. The
personal attentions of the master of the
house, the watchful eye, the liberal
hand conveys more than the morsel of

THANKSGI VING.

animal food; it possesses a permeating
flavor of hearty good will, of more value
by far than the orderly attendance and
stately grace of trained servitors.

In the hour of repletion, over the
figurative " walnuts and wine," the flash
of studied wit, the brilliant display of
oratoric power, bearing the trademark
of laborious thought, pales before the
simple stories and personal experiences
of the host, who, although his efforts
may bear the musty odor of age, con-
tributes his best and all for the pleasure
of his guests.

As we smoked our after-dinner cigars
with the wind whistling around the win-
dow panes and the scattered snowflakes
whitening the ground outside, the con-
versation drifted to the inconveniences
and discomforts of a previous genera-
tion, who had used the great old-fash-
ioned fireplace behind the stove, which
the Captain had closed in favor of more
modern methods of heating.

"Yes," said the Captain, "private
houses were bad enough, but the old
meeting-house at Rockv Hill took the
cake on a winter's day with no attempt
at heating. I have seen the puffs of
breath going up from the pews like lit-
tle steam engines. I can remember
when my mother bought a foot-stove,
and some of the women said she was
getting terrible high toned. I used to
have to go over to the parsonage and
get my share of coals to put in it and
take it over to the church. The minis-
ter's folks always built a great hickory
fire Sunday mornings so as to have
plenty of coals for the boys. 1 have
seen a dozen standing round at a time
waiting for their turn."

"What is a foot-stove. Uncle ?" said
the Captain's niece. " I never saw

one.

" Bless your soul and body ! " said

Capt. Jared in astonishment, "am I
such an old back number that the
things I know all about you never saw ?
Well, by Jiminy hill ! you come up in
the attic and I will show you the very
one your grandmother used, and lots of
other things I reckon you never saw.
The fact is, that when some new thing
comes around into this part of the
house an old one goes into the next
story, and then from there into the
attic, and if it want for the roof to hold
them in, I don't know where they would
go next. Every time house cleaning
comes around I have to stand guard."

" Now, Jared," said Mrs. Somes,
"don't talk that way, and I don't be-
lieve that anybody wants to go in that
dirty old place, so now ! "

This did not prove to be the case,
and we were soon treading the narrow
stairs leading to the unfinished space
beneath the roof. The Captain reached
under the eaves of the garret and pulled
out a square wooden frame of quite
elaborate finish, which served to hold in
place a perforated tin shell ; inside of
this was an iron tray designed to hold
the charcoal, upon the whole quite a
scientific device for imparting heat.
On the wall hung a brass warming-pan,
the duplicate of those that made up the
somewhat celebrated cargo sent by Lord
Timothy Dexter to the West Indies.

A variety of spinning wheels were in
evidence, great and small, all bearing
the marks of much service. Pathetic
reminders of a lost art ; every worn
spoke telling its story of the devotion
of patient hands to the needs of bygone
generations. The Captain undertook
to explain how the yarn was twisted by
the spindle and drawn out in long
threads, but if spirit eyes were looking
from some shadowy recess, his clumsy
efforts must have appeared like a trav-

THA NKSGI VING .

esty on the skill of those hands that
spin no more neither do they weave.
Substantial chairs with broken flag
bottoms stood here and there. Great,
solid sea chests lined the wall, filled
with the discarded finery brought home
from many a distant land, now regarded
as simple curiosities, the victims of
fashion's fickle moods.

A heavy flint-lock musket stood in
one corner with two or three rusty cut-
lasses, the relics of privateering days.
On a wooden peg near the window
hung a tall white hat with a long, silky
fur almost like an animal's. This the
Captain placed on his head, saying that
it was his grandfather's wedding hat.
He found an old green camlet cloak,
with stiff high collar fastened by a large
silver hook and chain. With these ad-
ditions to his wardrobe he posed as the
dandy of long ago.

Darkness began to gather in the cor-
ners of the garret before we descended
to the sitting-room below, with some-
what of the same feeling as -one has
when returning from foreign lands to
the familiar scenes of home.

" Now," said the Captain, when he
had returned to the sitting-room, "let's
have some real, genuine music. You
•can talk to me until doomsday about
harps, pianos and orchestras, but to my
mind they can't hold a candle to a
fiddle. That little brown box that the
Irishman said ' looked like a duck and
was about the size of a goose, but when
you turned him over on his back and
rubbed his belly with a greased stick.
Holy Mother! but the voice of him!'
has more in it that will pull the heart-
strings of a man than anything else in
the world.

" You can hear your mother's voice
in the old songs, your father's solemn
tone in prayer, the laughter of child-

hood, the tremulous words of feeble
age. It's all there ! It's all there !

" When I was shipping a crew I
always paid a man who could fiddle
two dollars a month extra. Sailors get
the grumps on a long voyage, and noth-
ing will take it out of them like the
snappy notes of a hornpipe. In ten
minutes they are kicking the deck like
mad and the squall is all over with."

The schoolmaster took out his violin
and handled the bow with the skill of an
expert. He made no attempt, how-
ever at classic productions, but played
the old, sweet ballads of long ago.

After a little, in spirit of mischief, he
shifted to the snap and flourish of an
Irish jig. to which the Captain beat
time in hearty appreciation, but when
he suddenly changed to a well-known
sailor's hornpipe, the Captain sprang to
his feet and with a skill and agility
wholly unexpected in one of his years
and rotund girth footed the well-known
step. As the music quickened, in fever-
ish excitement his boot heels beat the
floor like the long roll of a snare drum.

" There now, Jared," said Mrs. Somes,
"I am ashamed of you. What would
Elder Morton say if he should look into
the window ? "

"I don't know what /n- would say,"
said the Captain, " but I say that when
a man is happy there is no way he can
show it quite as well as by dancing.
There's plenty of Bible authority for it,
too. Whenever there was an especial
occasion for rejoicing they danced. I
don't know much about the modern
fandangoes of hugging and lop-eared
swinging, but I believe that there is
nothing that makes one feel better than
a good, honest breakdown."

The schoolmaster fingered his violin
like a guitar and sang two or three col-
lege songs, then some one suggested

THANKSGIVING.

that the Captain give us a regular old
sea song. Nothing loth, he cleared
his throat and started that threadbare
tale of

My name was Captain Kidd,
When I sailed, when I sailed,

And I murdered William Moore

And I left him in his gore,
When I sailed, when I sailed.

This selection was followed by

Billy Bowlin and his wife's mother
Both rode over the bridge together.
The bridge broke down and they fell in;
Devil of a bridge, said Billy Bowlin.

What was lacking in musical rhythm
was made up in force, and seemed to
carry the accompaniment of roaring
sea and wind beating out the chords on
straining rigging.

The schoolmaster whispered to the
Captain's niece, and putting the violin
in place they sang together the old
song of Tom Moore's, " Sweet Vale of
Avoca."

Have song writers lost a delicacy of
touch and sentiment, or do the cluster-
ing memories of scenes and events give
a flavor of their own to bygone min-
strelsy? Certainly it seems as though
the pages of the past must be turned to
feel the heart touch of the best.

The lights had gone out along the
shore save here and there where the
wearying grip of pain called for a
watcher's sympathy and attention. The
wind howled in dolorous cadence down
the wide chimney throat, the windows
rattled and all the multitudinous sounds
of a blustering night filled the air.

I lay awake for a long time, but
finally dropped into a troubled sleep,
where Captain Somes' brine-soaked
songs mingled with the soft, tremulous
notes of the violin in a way more fan-
tastic and strange than the abrupt
flashes of the northern lights that were
painting the midnight sky.

The next morning when Newell Mar-
den's overland express came swaying
and rattling around the Ferry Corner
I stood by my luggage on the Captain's
front steps.

The theory that language was given
man for the purpose of concealing his
thoughts may or may not be true, but
it is quite certain that the hand grasp
of a friend gives an assurance of sin-
cere regard that no words can . rival.
You may call it mental telegraphy, mag-
netism, or what not, but there is some-
thing that goes with it that binds the
strands of friendship into a firmer cord.
I felt this as I grasped Captain Somes'
hand. Little was said, little need be
said, we knew one another too well to
play with words.

The old coach swayed and swang
down the long street, its genial driver
shouting his morning salutations to
every one he met. When the horses
slowed down to a walk on Cedar Hill
I turned for a last look at Shoreline.
A big lump came in my throat as I
thought of the possible changes that
might come ere my eyes rested again on
this scene, if, indeed, they ever did.

A turn at the top of the hill, and the
leaf of records of one summer vacation
was turned.

Fire Consumed the Soil Twenty Years Ago.
Soil entirely gone. Rock -washed bare by the rains. No future groivth possible.

THE FOREST SITUATION IN NEW HAMPSHIRE, AND HOW

TO CHANGE IT.

By Fliilip W. Ay res. Forester of the Society for the Protection of N. H. Forests.

I. THE SITUATION.

Few realize the importance of the
forests in New Hampshire. Scat-
tered as our people are in three hun-
dred self-governing towns, it is diffi-
cult to realize the situation or to
determine a method of forest treat-
ment. Not only is a very large por-
tion of the land area of the state cov-
ered b}^ some form of woody growth,
— more than seventy-five per cent.,
including the brush land, — but also
a very large portion is non-agricul-
tural and can never be productive of
any but a forest crop. It has been
estimated that the present gross pro-
duct of the forests in the state is
:$i6,ooo,ooo annually, and that at the
present rate of cutting spruce in the

northern towns this product must
soon be greatly diminished by ex-
haustion of supply. The old pine
growth is gone already, but it re-
produces rapidly, and we are reaping
a large return annually from second
growth. By proper management,
getting pines instead of hard woods
to succeed pines, as can easily be
done, and has been done in the state
repeatedly, the income from our pine
forests can be more than doubled,
perhaps quadrupled, while by a dif-
ferent method, of cutting, our spruce
supplies can be made to hold out
much longer.

The clean cutting of spruce on our
high mountain slopes, practised by
all of the great paper companies, is
wasteful in the extreme, and in many

FOREST SITUATION IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

Ttiis Tree Snows How the Soil was Consumed by Fire.
Tiuo feet and eight inches luere hiiriieii away.

instances, especially when the slash
is consumed by the great fires, the
soil is destroyed, and a future crop
of any value is postponed for several
centuries and sometimes forever. The
accompanying picture photographs
the soil consumed by fire, where for-
merly, only twenty years ago, a great
forest stood. Germany and France
have learned by much bitter experi-
ence that floods and timber famine
follow destructive lumbering in the
mountains. They now use the wiser,
selective method, taking out only
mature trees. We are following their
former methods, without profiting by
their experience, and when we awake
to our real needs it may be too late.
These considerations do not concern
our summer visitors; they are not a
matter of sentiment, but primarilj^ of

bread and butter to our all-the-year
population.

How essential a proper treatment
of the forests becomes is seen in towns
like Roxbury, formerly a flourishing
community, but now without a post-
office, or Saron or Richmond or man}-
others that are not what they were
when farming and lumbering com-
bined yielded a comfortable living,
for which the farms alone are inade-
quate and no longer used. It is in-
evitable that many of our mountain
towns now flourishing will follow
their example. Indeed, Bartlett and
Tamvvorth have done so already, and
are dependent largely on the summer
visitors. It appears to be only a
question of time when the present
prosperity of several of our mountain
towns will disappear.

FOREST SITUATION IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

As the forest grows slowly, and
when abused produces tree weeds or
species of little value, often for a hun-
dred years or more, legislation is nec-
essary — more necessary to a rational
forest management than to general
agriculture, yet our forest laws are
few and inoperative.

IT. HOW TO CHANGE THE SITUATION.

How can the situation be changed ?
In the following ways :

1. By spreading as widely as pos-
sible, among woodland owners, a
knowledge of tree growth and tree
values, and the best methods of cut-
ting and of reproducing a forest.
The Grange has been active in this
regard, and can do still more. The
Society for the Protection of New
Hampshire forests provides lantern
slides, and a lecturer free, except the
expenses of the lantern.

2. There should be better laws on
the subject of forest fires. Last year
eight thousand acres burned over in
the town of Bethlehem, two thousand
in Franconia, twelve thousand in
Milan and Berlin ; more than two
hundred thousand in the state at
large, causing a loss in present values
estimated at one and one half mill-
ions of dollars, with loss to young
growth and to the soil that is beyond
estimate. Several states, including
New York, Massachusetts and Min-
nesota, have a fire warden in each
town to put out small fires and to

bring forces quickly to bear upon
large ones. There are striking ex-
amples of the benefit of this system
in New Hampshire where private
wardens have been employed.

3. By providing a nursery for the
distribution of forest seedling trees
and seeds at cost.

4. By establishing one or more
areas in the state under expert man-
agement, to demonstrate the financial
value of proper treatment of the for-
est, and to preserve some of the vir-
gin forest, both of pine and spruce,
of which now very little remains of
either.

5. By the establishment of a na-
tional forest reservation in the White
Mountains. A bill for this purpose
has been introduced in both houses
of congress. It has passed favorably
the Senate Committee on Forest Res-
ervations.

Everj^ one who is interested in the
preservation of the forests on these
mountains, and in their more con-
servative use, is urged to write to
his or her representative in congress,
urging the passage of this bill. Per-
sons of New Hampshire birth or an-
cestry, living in other states, can lend
most valuable aid in this direction.
Within the state the immediate ob-
jects to work for are better laws to
protect our forests from fire, and one
or more state reservations under ade-
quate care.

DEMPSEY'S TRICK.

By Jesse H. Buffutn.

The trouble began in a way that
many troubles do, by my father's
determination that I should enter the
ministry. At first this did not con-
cern me very much, for I was but
fourteen years old when the subject
was first broached, but as time ac-
cumulated I was so overwhelmed by
the realization of my own sinfulness
that I could not for a moment enter-
tain the idea of correcting the same
idiosyncrasies in others.

I gave this explanation to myself,
for it was in a way comforting.

The inevitable climax came at
last, and to the query, "What on
earth are you going to do?" I
promptly replied, "Go to my uncle
and learn to quarry."

"Hugh! "

What made this sudden disposition
of the problem possible was the fact
that my uncle, Allen Eastman, owned
a granite quarry far up in the " wilds "
of New Hampshire, as my father
termed it, in the beautiful White
Mountain region ; or, more particu-
larly, in the quiet village of North
Conway.

About my experiences in this
strange position I .shall tell you but
little, for six weeks of quarrying
ended in my extreme inquisitiveness
being rewarded with a broken leg —
two places, broken ribs — about six,
and severe internal injuries.

My accident, which occurred in
early spring, had been a peculiar one

the doctor said, and I was informed
that I had a summer of idleness be-
fore me — to boot, the impossibility of
a railroad journey home.

So I began to make the most of
North Conway.

When I say that the trouble all
began with my father, I am partially
wrong, for had I not been born with
a seemingly inherent love for rail-
roading, I would not be telling you
this story about myself — I mean about
Dempsey, — for I play but a poor part
in the little tragedy soon to be
enacted.

Do not expect a graphic account
of some deep-laid mathematical plot
of a boy train despatcher, whereby
he saves scores of lives by a single
touch of the finger and brings the
Ivimited in on time. It is a railroad
story, to be sure, but of the practical
coolness of an obscure fellow who,
when he was needed, was there and
able to think. The young man who
wonders how he can succeed may
read this with profit, perhaps.

I reveled in the unspeakable beau-
ties of a springtime in the woods. I
have learned where and when to
spend my vacations, for the veritable
nature-garden of the North Conway
region cannot be surpassed. I took
many walks after I had laid my
crutches aside, and although I was
weak and could stand but little ex-
ertion, I was constantly expedition-
izing.

DEMPSEY'S TRICK.

My fascination with things railroad
led me to quite frequently pay visits
to the depot, water tank and round-
house. North Conway marked the
terminus of the Boston & Maine.
The Maine Central passed through
another portion of the village, run-
ning north and west up through the
White Mountains. It was on this
branch that Dempsey did his ' ' trick. ' '
I would each night at 6 o'clock stand
and watch the engineer "put her to
bed" in the roundhouse. The en-
gines — there were three during the
busy season — would come in from the
turn-table panting just like "humans,"
as if they had done a hard day's
work and wanted you to know it.

I did not confine my perambula-
tions to the tank, switches or round-
house, but occasionally would saun-
ter into the cool depot, where the
click of the relay fascinated and at-
tracted me. For hours between train
times, when the place was not busy,
I would sit and chat with the ope-
rator. It was thus that I got to
know Dempsey. Dempsey was the
operator.

I had lived this way for about a
month, perhaps, going and coming
at will, doing nothing and wanting
to do nothing, when one day after
our customar}^ chat about nothings in
particular, Dempsey said to me :

" Why don't you learn to trick? "

He called everything a "trick,"
from booking cars to refilling bat-
teries.

Dempsey nagged me continually
about learning to operate. I have
wondered many times at his interest
in me, and as I have grown to know
him better, I believe it was because
he hated to see me kill time. I was
indeed getting into a bad way. With

nothing on earth to occupy one, one
gets tired of life even. So I began
to learn the alphabet. As I grew a
little more and more adept, the incen-
tive became stronger, and I found
myself spending several hours each
day, wrapt mind and soul in the sim-
ple instrument before me. This went
on until about the 13th of June,
when, as the "summer" business
began, there came down from the
" C. F. D." the peremptory order to
" Stop that novice work at C — y,"

My ambition gauge dropped about
fifty degrees, but Dempsej^ who was
resourceful if anything, sent me sky-
ward again by running a private line
from the ofhce to his boarding-house
and thence to my own room. Thus,
whenever a spare hour came, whether
daytime or evening, he coached me.
I soon became an "expert," as my
chum enthusiastically declared.

It was well along in July when an
incident occurred which, though I
placed no value on it at the time,
proved of much consequence to me a
little later on. I was spending the
afternoon in the office as usual.
Dempsey had left me, going out on
some errand or other, and I was sit-
ting alone, listening to the dull drone
of the haymaking as it came up from
the intervales beyond. Suddenly the
relay began to speak. I knew the

call instantly : ' ' C— y C— y . " It

was the ofhce call, and it kept com-
ing insistently. It grew more impe-
rious.

I trembled -a little at what I was
doing, but I opened in and, scarce
realizing what I was doing, took
down orders, flagged trains and, as
some say, saved a few lives. I speak
shortly of this, for it has nothing
to do with Dempsey, and does

DEMPSEY'S TRICK.

not compare with what he did in
the mountains in the little town
of Bartlett.

The summer was far spent. I had
found time, when I was not sending
whole chapters of " Quincy Adams
Sawyer" over the wire to my friend
of the key, to take in all the sights
in the vicinit}', and my conquering
spirit yearned for fresh fields of ad-
venture or work, for Dempsej' had lost
for me my laziness. I had climbed
Washington, Moat, Kearsarge, and
passed raptures on the various scenes
and places of the famous White
Mountain region.

My uneasiness for w^ant of occupa-
tion was increased by a letter from
home stating that my father had se-
cured for me a position in a business
house. It was time that I made some
move. When I communicated to my
chum this intelligence he was deep-
ly interested, and distressed at the
thought of my going back to New
Jersey.

"It will never do," declared he,
"you were cut out for the railroad
and you won't fit anywhere else."

" Say," he continued, after we had
stood a while in silence brooding
over the matter, "will you take a
trick if I can get one for you ? ' '

"Yes," I said, though with no
faith in the outcome.

My chum was enthusiastic and
volubly assured me of a job soon
found. I left him, myself far less
hopeful of so delightful a result.

Though I had always entertained
full confidence in my friend Dempsey,
I was genuinely surprised to receive,
as I did a few days later, my appoint-
ment to the night trick at Bartlett, a
small town up in the mountains. It
was here that my hero was to win

fame for himself and a better job
for me.

I found my new duties very agree-
able, and in time overcame the in-
tricacies of the position with some
assistance from my ever-ready friend
down the line. During the remain-
der of the summer, and w^hile the
days were still hot, I found much
leisure time, for my duties were light,
as the passenger service, though
brisk, alone demanded vay attention.
The freight traffic would begin to
pick up in the early fall.

But while I had much time to spare
from my work, I was not going to be
allowed to lapse into idleness. Demp-
se}^ kept the wire hot. He first de-
clared that I was not always going
to hang out at Bartlett, and " 5^ou
want more speed." He made me an
expert in abbreviating, and no code
or system in vogue in the railway
world but what I could tick off
glibly. On hot afternoons during
August and early September we had
delightful chats over the wire. I
would sleep during the forenoon and
spend the remainder of the day in
the ofiice. Occasionally he would
try me for speed. Under his direc-
tion I accomplished a great deal, and
during those periods when the wire
would be almost entirely quiet, I
would send him whole chapters of
some favorite novel we would both
be reading. Dempsey, w^ho was an
expert stenographer as well as teleg-
rapher, would "take me down" in
shorthand and repeat all I would
send. I in turn would verify the
stuff. In this way we both got in
much excellent practice.

As the fall freight season opened
in I found but small time for " novice
work," so termed by the C. T. D.

DEMPSEY'S TRICK.

The real work was beginning for
me, and the heavy freight traflfiic kept
me pretty well occupied throughout
my trick. Nothing outside the de-
spatcher's office is called a "trick,"
but I had fallen into Dempsey's-
phonology readily.

Coal and live stock and grain
went up the line, and lumber and
stone came down. A lot of mixed
traffic was sprinkled in, but this con-
stituted the principal business on the
road.

Just why I never could determine,
but the Bartlett freight yard seemed
the dumping ground for all the empty
freight cars north and east of Phila-
delphia. My predecessor informed
me that on one occasion, in mid-
winter, there had been a thousand
cars in the yard at once, and " they
made a nasty snarl," said he, adding
significantly, "they changed opera-
tors next day." As the season's
work advanced I began to realize
what a "nasty snarl" might be, for
several times my wits, and speed at
the ticker, were taxed to the ut-
most to keep things out of a hopeless
tangle.

A snowstorm in the White Moun-
tains means something. December
had come and gone, and still no snow
— only a few inches. No genuine
snowstorm had appeared. I was old
for m}'' years, and accepted this as a
warning before disaster, for an "old
timer" meant business for the ope-
rators. There w^ere always blockades
and rear-end collisions and such like
to keep the poor fellows on nerv^e's
end.

Dempsey came up to see me early
in January — I think it was of a Fri-
day — and as my trick began at 6 in
the afternoon, he said he would stay

all night with me. He was off duty
for a few days and was well rested.
The night before it had begun
snowing, and continued to snow
all through the day following.
When I went on at 6 a blizzard was
raging.

All day long empty cars had been
piling into the yard. The chief
despatcher evidently realized the in-
expediency of sending them further
into the mountains in the face of
what promised to be the biggest
storm occurring in years.

It was none too warm, even in the
office, yet sweat was pouring off my
face as the strain increased.

It was near midnight.

I had no time for sociability. But
Dempsey did not need entertaining.
Despite his assurances that he felt
"fresh as that young fireman on '71,"
he was now fast asleep.

The snow was now man}' feet deep
and still falling fast. A double-
header had just pulled in with thirty
empty cars. The sidings were all
full, .so there she stood on the main
track, fast losing her outlines beneath
the heav)', clinging flakes which fell
with amazing rapidity. I had booked
every car so far, and had reported
983 in the yard. I had done a hard
night's work, and weak from the ex-
ertion and rush, lounged back in my
chair watching the snow as it drove
by the window. I could scarcely
distinguish the train on the track
in front of me, only a few feet
away.

The relay snapped — "B — tt, ' ' rather
viciously, I thought. The wire had
been talking some stuff about a spe-
cial, but I had scarcely heard. It
was with some misgivings that I
opened. I was horrified when Liver-

A FACT.

more, next above, told me that special
No. 5 had just passed.

I forgot all about Dempsey.

Opening on the C. T. D. I told him
the situation. He swore in red-hot
English and it snapped over the wire
in an ugly way.

"Flag her! "

She had a snow plow in front and
could n't see a red barn on fire.

" Back 86 [the double-header just
in] down to Conway."

" 86 stalled and can't move."

" . No. 5 is lost and you ."

I don't believe I heard him finish,
for I sprang across the room at Demp-
sey. Both he and the chair went to
the floor together. I had been a little
hasty. But I was helpless ; and of
course Dempsey would find a way out.
You see I had boundless confidence
in my benefactor. He sprang up and
plied me with questions. He said,
^' I have twenty minutes yet," grab-
bed a lantern and rushed out the
door.

Opposite the depot and parallel
with the main track, on which stood
freight train No. 86, ran a steep em-
bankment. Between this track and
■embankment lay another track, a sid-
ing. On this stood a work train with
derrick. Dempsey took this all in at
a glance, though he was somewhat
familiar with the ground. There

were, in the roundhouse across the
yard, about twenty-five men, train
hands and accustomed to rough work.
In a few moments he had these men
with shovels releasing the work train,
rear and front. In the meantime the
donkey engine was started, and one
by one the empty cars of train 86
were picked up and dumped gently
over the embankment.

It takes some time to handle thirty
cars in this way. Dempsey had the
job completed including the locomo-
tive, with the exception of two cars
filled with hay, when up the line
sounded a whistle. No time to lose !
While the derrick grappled one of the
remaining cars, Dempsey sprang to
the other. A lurid blaze shot sky-
ward through the thickly falling snow.
Above the storm came the rushing of
steam and hissing of brakes, and spe-
cial No. 5 came to a standstill, with
her engine half way through the burn-
ing car. The wreckage was cleared
away in a few minutes, and the special,
with clear track, passed on down the
line.

Dempsey is now at Portland, and I

am holding down a good job at W ,

one of the best positions on the road.
This, however, is several years after
Dempsey did his "trick" in the
mountains.

A FACT.
By Laura Garland Carr.

Who does not earn, by work of brain or hand.
His place in life, wherever that may be —

Is but a useless cumberer of the land
And lives — by charity.

JOHN STARK, THE HERO OF BENNINGTON.

By Gilbert Patten Brown.
I.ive free or die — death is not the worst of evils.— John Stark.

From the lives of many of the prom-
inent men of past generations, we of
this progressive age can profit much.
While their forms are unseen by the
human eye, their deeds of valor are
monuments in modern civilization.
Empires of the old world have been
born and destroyed by the children of
men. In the new world a republic
has been formed, as a home for the
oppressed of all races and creeds ;
and in that home the Declaration of
Independence will serve as a Bible for
the rights of human kind forever.

In 1493 the Duchess of Burgundy,
widow of Charles the Bold, sent under
Gen. Martin Swart a distinguished
body of German grenadiers to take
part in the invasion of England, in
support of the claim of a pretender to
the throne of Henry VII. The in-
vading forces were defeated, and those
whose good fortune it was to survive

fled to Scotland, where they had the
protection of the Scottish king.
Among that large body of soldiers
were several men, mighty in stature
and intellect, bearing the name of
Stark. From one of those men of
Germany's best blood the subject of
this memoir descended. In the books
of heraldry we find mention as
to one of this distinguished name
having saved the life of the king of
Scotland. Archibald Stark was born
at Glasgow, Scotland, in 1697, and
was graduated from the university of
that city. While he was young, the
family moved to Londonderry, Ire-
land, at which place he married Miss
Eleanor Nichols. In 1720 they, to-
gether with other Scotch-Irish fami-
lies, came to the new world and set-
tled in the old town of Nutfield, among^
the forests of the New Hampshire
colony.

JOHN STARK.

The warlike hand of the red man
seemed to cause a cloud of gloom to
hang over that part of the country,
and giant Archibald Stark at once
took up arms in defense of the king
against the natives.

The inhabitants of I^ondonderr}^
were in some instances protected from
the savages through the influence of
Father Rallee, the Catholic friar of
Norridgewock, who informed the In-
dians that they would surely go to
hell if they meddled with the Irish.

John Stark, his son, was born in
Nutfield (now Londonderry), New
Hampshire, August 28, 1726. He
received but little education, yet the
best the town at that time could af-
ford. But like Franklin "improved
himself in books," so when arriving
at manhood the hunter boy of Lon-
donderry possessed the rudiments of
an ordinary English education. He,
together with his brothers, William,
Samuel, and Archibald, held commis-
sions in the king's service during the
" Seven Years," or so, often called the
"French War," of 1754 to 1760.
On August 20, 1758, he married Miss
Elizabeth Page of old Dunbarton,
N. H. She was of sweet manners,
of rare beauty, and of Norman and
Celt extraction. The following chil-
dren were the fruit of that marriage :
Caleb, Archibald, John, Jr., Eleanor,
Eleanor, 2d, Sarah, Elizabeth, Mary,
Charles, Benjamin Franklin, and
Sophia. The emigrant is buried in
the beauteous city of Manchester,
N. H., where a rude .stone is seen,
bearing the following epitaph :

Here lies tlie body of ISIr.
Archibald Stark. He
Departed this life June 25th,
1758, Aged 61 Years.

Although the Starks had served the
crown faithfully in colonial times,

when the dark cloud of the war of the
Revolution came, no family in all
New England took a more firm stand
against the British longer ruling the
American colonies than this one
family. Excitement ran throughout
that town, and they were foremost in
the new and most vital issue. After
the battle of Lexington (1775) John
Stark was appointed colonel in the
"Massachusetts' Line," and on the
following month was appointed by the
general court of New Hampshire,
colonel to command the First New
Hampshire regiment, which body,
with Colonel Stark at its head, was in
the thickest of the fray at the battle
of Bunker Hill, June 17, 1775.

In 1776 he served in the Canada
campaign under Maj.-Gen. John Sul-
livan, LL. D. In the battles of Tren-
ton and Princeton his regiment played
a most conspicuous part. He being
of modest disposition, therefore,
claimed but little credit for his vast
achievements, and was superseded by
congress. This grieved the great-
hearted patriot, who at once resigned
his commission and quietly retired to
his farm at old Merrimack, where he
" patiently bided his time."

Much grieved were the New Hamp-
shire people, as they had seen the
mistake made by their honorable and
patriotic body in failing at a very
early date to appoint the hunter boy of
wild Londonderry a colonel, thus per-
mitting the Massachusetts colony to
commission him. In 1777 he again
left his loving wife and family amid
the granite hills and took up the
sword of human justice and fought at
Bennington with results well known
to history. As a volunteer he had
joined General Gates and had fought
with distinction and bravery at the

JOHN STARK

battle of Saratoga. After having
been ordered by General Gates to
send away his troops (and somewhat
doubting the patriotism of Gates) he
wrote the following letter :

Albany, June i, 1778.

To the Mayor and Council of Albany :
Gentlemen :

As I am ordered b\- the Hon. Major-General
Gates to send to Fishkill all the Continental
troops from this place, with the British
Hospital, I must beg the favor of you to mount
the guards for the security of the city and the
stores in it.

Your compliance will much oblige

Your friend and verj- humble servant,

John Stark.

General Gates had not acted in a
friendly manner to General Stark, as
he well knew the New Hampshire
veteran to be an honest man, and
Gates was not so. General Stark,
like the majority of those foremost in
the patriot cause, was a member of
the Masonic institution. It had been
his wish for many years to be a
Mason (some of his dearest friends
were members of army lodges).
In the busy and then much troubled
town of Albany, N. Y., was old
" ^Masters' lodge, No. 2 " (now Mas-
ters' lodge, No. 5), among whose rolls
of membership were the names of
many men distinguished in colonial
and Revolutionary life. The name of
"John Stark, Brigadier-General,"
was proposed by a fellow-ofhcer to
" Masters' lodge," and on January 9,
1778, he was initiated into the ancient
craft. There gathered upon that oc-
casion at this fraternal shrine many of
his military compeers. Repaid " 5L,
for initiation, 8s. to Tyler, and 4s. for
extra lodge, ' ' and after his being there
entered, crafted, and raised to the
degree of a Master Mason, no prouder
member of the fraternity could be
found in all the Continental army than

the volunteer of Saratoga. In 1780
he served with marked bravery in the
New Jersey campaign, and in 1781
had command of the Northern depart-
ment.

On October 4, 1777, the continental
congress passed the following act :
" Resolved, That the thanks of con-
gress be presented to General Stark
of the New Hampshire militia, and
to the officers and troops under his
command, for their brave and suc-
cessful attack upon and signal victory
over the enemy in their lines at Ben-
nington, and that Brigadier-General
Stark be appointed a Brigadier-Gen-
eral in the army of the United States. ; '

From the above date he bore a com-
mission of a regular brigadier-general
and served to the close of the war,
when he was brevetted a major-gen-
eral September 30, 1783. General
Stark was noted for his unique
phrases. Just before the battle of
Bennington things looked critical to
the Americans ; he there addressed
his soldiers in a most fitting manner.
His words gave them fresh courage,
and in concluding, he said : " We
must conquer, my boys, or to-night
Molly Stark sleeps a widow." Those
last words reminded them of their
homes, and all that was dear to them.
Just previous to the battle of Bunker
Hill, a British officer asked General
Gage if he thought the provincials
would stand the fire of the king's
forces? He replied: "Yes, if one
John Stark is amongst them — he
served under n-ie at Lake George, and
was a brave fellow. ' ' At Bunker Hill
an old soldier cried in tears to General
Stark: "My son has fallen dead."
The giant warrior replied : "Is this
a time for private grief, with the foe
in our face? "

76 THE HOPE PLANT.

In his official account of the battle Northern department, and the name

of Bennington, General Stark thus of vStark was upon the lips of all

writes: "It lasted two hours, the patriots.

hottest I ever saw in my life ; it pre- At the end of the war he retired to

sented one continued clap of thunder ; his farm in New Hampshire. He

however, the enemy were obliged to was popular only as a soldier. By

give way and leave their field pieces his youthful training he had become

and all their baggage behind them ; well skilled in the art of warfare. As

they were all environed within two a farmer he was unsuccessful, and in

breastworks with artillery ; but our politics he took no part. He died

martial courage proved too strong for May 8, 1822. In Manchester, New

them. I then gave orders to rally Hampshire, upon the banks cA. the

again, in order to secure the victory : Merrimack, on a high bluff of land,

but in a few minutes was informed stands a monument to the "Hero of

that there was a large reinforcement Bennington." The inscription is

on its march within two miles. Col- simply

onel Warner's regiment, luckily com- Major-Generai stark.
ing up at the moment, renewed the Gentle reader, there rests all that is
attack with fresh vigor. I pushed for- earthly of the scout of rural London-
ward as many of the men as I could derry, in whose veins there flowed
to their assistance ; the battle contin- blood of the chivalry of early Ger-
ued obstinate on both sides until sun- many. The pine-covered hills of the
set; theenemj' was obliged to retreat ; town of his nativity seem, as each
we pursued them till dark, and had springtime comes around, to sing a
the day lasted an hour longer should requiem to a sacred memory :

have taken the whole body of them." sleep on, thou warrior, ever bold;

Since the death of General Mont- Men think of thee no shame.

gomery , this victory was the first event ^'o^r like could ne'er be gained with gold,

,, Nor insults touch thy name !

that had proved encouraging in the

THE HOPE PLANT.

By A. H. H.

My little hope plant, promised much
In the spring of the opening year ;

I've tried so hard, to nourish it right
To my heart was its life so dear.

The sun has tended the garden flowers,
And they have been full of bloom ;

But not one bud has ray little plant had
And my heart is filled with gloom.

The seeds are scattering over the earth.
Nature's perfect work is done ;

But my little plant I have misunderstood ;
The lot of many a one.

HIvSTORY AND POETRY FROM THR IvIFE OF F. B. SANBORN

OF CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS.

CHAPTER II. — HEREDITARY INFLU-
ENCES. SANBORNS, TOWLES
AND LEAVITTS.

Having established my own ex-
istence in the first chapter, with some
account of the immediate environ-
ment around my childhood and
youth, it is proper next to consider
the antecedents. Everj^ person, by
inheritance, is but a kind of net re-
sult of thousands of ancestors, both
for his physical and mental structure.
We understand heredity, as yet, very
little in its details; but of its general
-effect there can be no doubt. The
puzzle is to reconcile multiplicity
with unity ; the individual is one,
his forefathers are innumerable. Is
he, am I, a composite photograph
of the multitude, or has some syndi-
cate, or some powerful antecedent
unit, impressed on me characteristics
not of the generality, but specially
traceable to him or them? I incline
to the latter alternative, not only
from a general survey of the field of
heredity, but from special facts in
my own genealogy.

The Sambornes of England, who
came over with their grandfather,
the Puritan ejected minister. Rev.
Stephen Bachiler, were purely Eng-
lish, so far as knowm ; but possibly
Norman rather than Saxon, and per-
haps with a comparatively recent
French admixture, through the Bach-
ilers, with their kindred, the Merci-
^rs, Priaulx, etc. The Eeavitts, my
mother's ancestors, were also purely

English, but from more northern
and eastern counties, — Lincoln or
Yorkshire, instead of Wilts and
Hampshire. No Irish strain ap-
pears in either line until some gene-
rations after the migration. Bach-
ilers and Sambornes and Husseys,
all kindred, were among the found-
ers of Hampton; Eeavitts, of two
different stocks, were among the
founders of the next town, Exeter.
A certain connection by affinity
seems to have existed between my
ancestor, Thomas Leavitt, and his
pastor, Rev. John Wheelwright, who,
with the first Wentworth, and two-
score others, founded Exeter. But
nothing not English appears in that
line; the wife of the first Eeavitt
being the daughter of John Bland, a
good English name.

Now about 1650 there appeared in
Hampton, N. H., a stalwart Irish-
man, Philip Towle, called a "sea-
man," and of course a Protestant,
who in 1657 married a daughter of
the same Isabella Bland from whom,
through the Leavitts, I am de-
scended. At the age of sixty-two
he had a son Caleb, who mar-
ried Zipporah, daughter of Anthony
Brackett (an Indian fighter whom
the Indians slew), and had eleven
children, all but one leaving families.
Caleb's son Philip,. grandson of Cap-
tain Brackett, married Li'dia Dow,
and had a daughter Esther, who
married Benjamin Eeavitt, great-
grandson of Isabella Bland, and
therefore second cousin of Esther

FRANK B. SANBORN.

Towle. About the same time VL\y
other great-grandfather, Benjamin
Sanborn, married Anna Towle, sec-
ond cousin of Esther, so that by
those two marriages the Towle in-
fluence gave me a double chance of
inheritance.

From the Towles came the great
height and size which some of the
Sanborns and some of the Leavitts
have since shown. A son of Anna

Hon. Moses Norns, Jr.

(Towle) Sanborn, my great-uncle
John, was about the stature of
Abraham Lincoln, and of enormous
strength. From Esther's daughter,
Comfort Eeavitt, who married Moses
Norris of Pittsfield, my mother's
cousin, Norris the Congressman and
Senator, derived his height and physi-
cal strength. My own stature, and
such strength as I have had, evi-
dently came from the same source,
for neither the Sanborns nor the
Eeavitts, in their own lines, were
above the common size.

Moreover, this slight Irish admix-
ture seems to have introduced a gay
and active turn of mind, often verg-
ing on eccentricity, which was hardly
natural eithei" to the Sanborn or the
Leavitt stock. From old Parson
Bachiler the Sanborns might have
derived, and doubtless did, vigor and
independence, which were his traits;
but liveliness, ambition, black hair
and fair complexions, with an occa-
sional turn for music, and escapades,
came to the Eeavitts from old Philip
Tawle.

When an old lady, recently, look-
ing at me carefully, and hearing me
talk with something of the Hibernian
liveliness, said to me: "You were
ijiietided ior a. rogue," I said to my-
self, as Emerson did on a different
occasion, " This is a saying in which
I find a household relationship."
Therefore, when Colonel Higginson,
Mrs. Dall, and others fancy they see
in me some outward signs of descent
from Daniel Webster's " black Bach-
iler " ancestor, the old parson, I
cannot deny the fact; but know in
my own mind that my complexion
and physical traits come from the
Leavitts. When Esther Eeavitt en-
tered the Hampton Falls meeting-
house with her sons Jonathan, Reu-
ben, Brackett, and her daughter
Lydia, for whom my mother was
named, she could not help showing
pride in her handsome children ; and
her deep religious sentiment did not
make her regard it as a sin. My
mother, as I remember her, to the
age of sixty had the traditional Irish
beauty — ^jet-black hair of great length
and thickness, clear blue eyes with
long lashes, and a complexion of
clear white and red, which descended
to several of her children. Others of

FRANK B. SANBORN.

them followed the Sanborn type, with
equally fair complexions, but with-
out the sparkling eyes and thick
dark hair.

There was an earl}' admixture
from another source in the Sanborn
line, by the marriage of Mary Gove
(daughter of Edward Gove, the pris-
oner of London Tower) to Joseph
Samborne, son of the first John, and
the first of the name to reside where
I was born. Although Edward
Gove's descendants became peaceful
Quakers in considerable number, his
own temper was far from peaceful
at times, and he had involved him-
self in a dispute with his powerful
neighbor, Nathaniel Weare, who was
long active in the magistracy of New
Hampshire. Notwithstanding this,
Gove was often chosen to important
local ofi&ce, was a captain in the mili-
tia, and a man of property enough
to make the confiscation of it a mat-
ter of interest to Governor Cranfield,
who in 1683 procured his arrest, trial
and sentence to death for high trea-
son. It was an absurd name for his
offence, which was an armed demon-
stration against James II and the
Tories who then held sway in the
new Province of the Weares, Cutts,
Husseys and Sambornes.

He was sent to England under the
escort of Edward Randolph, the great
enemy of Puritan rule in New Eng-
land, and lodged in the Tower under
strict guard, about the time that the
leaders of his party in England, Lord
Russell and Algernon Sidnej^, were
imprisoned there, preliminary to their
execution. But Gove was soon seen
to be a harmless man, and nobody in
England, even in that bloody time,
urged his beheading. His neighbor,
Weare, visiting England in the in-

terest of the planters and merchants
of the province, secured the resigna-
tion of Cranfield through the influ-
ence of Savile, Lord Halifax; and
soon after, the pardon and return
of Gove to that part of Hampton
which is now Seabrook. He recov-
ered his forfeited estate, some part of
which seems to have come to his
daughter by way of dowry. She
was married at the age of sixteen to
my ancestor, two short months only
before her father's sentence to death,
and in the foot companj^ of Hampton
which arrested him, and put his
mounted men in custody, her father-
in-law, Lieut. John Samborne, was
an oSicer.

Thirty years before, when this
Lieut. John and Edward Gove were
young men, they had joined Sam-
borne's uncle, Christopher Hussey of
Hampton, in a petition to the Massa-
chusetts General Court in favor of
Robert Pike of vSalisbury (where
Gove was then living), who had
given offence by his free speech to
the Puritan oligarchy. For this
Hussey and Samborne were fined,
but Gove seems to have escaped
notice. He had been a member of
the Provincial Assembly just before
his arrest in 1683, and was a lead-

ing man.

After his return to Hampton he
was chosen, along with Weare and
others, to frame a temporary consti-
tution for the Province, after the
imprisonment of Sir Edmund Andros,
and his name is signed, January 24,
1690, to the only copy of this brief
and sensible document known to
exist. Little more than a j^ear later
(May 29. 1 691) he died. Various
legends and traditions survived him,
and are still kept alive by credulity

FRANK B. SANBORN.

or ignorance, — that he was a hard
drinker, was insane after leaving the
Tower, and believed himself to have
been slowly poisoned in his food
there. His important offices before
and after his imprisonment discredit
these stories. He was probably a
person of excitable and rather eccen-
tric temper, and in other respects a
good citizen, of more than ordinary
intelligence. His son and his ser-
vant, William Healey, joined in his
demonstration, and were long in
prison for it.

His contemporary, lyieutenant Sam-
borne, had been briefly imprisoned
by Cranfield in 1684, for refusing to
pay quitrents on his land in Hamp-
ton, which Robert Mason claimed to
own. He escaped from the Hampton
jail, probably by the connivance of
the jailer.

I thought of these imprisoned an-
cestors when the United States Sen-
ate had me illegally arrested in i860,
but I was discharged by the Massa-
chusetts court the next day, without
going to prision. I have since visited
many prisons as their official inspector.

By my maternal grandmother's
line (Hannah Melcher, descended
from Edward Melcher of Portsmouth)
I am connected by descent with
nearly all those early Hampton fami-
lies from whom I am not descended
through the Sanborns, Leavitts and
Towles. But I still hold the chief
part of my heredity as coming from
the lycavitts and their Irish kin.
My other ancestors were yeomen,
deacons, petty officers in the towns,
and industrious farmers tilling their
own land; but the Leavitts, after the
Irish infusion, began to get more
education and push their fortunes
farther. My grandfather, Thomas

lycavitt, and his father, Benjamin,
were land surveyors, as George
Washington, St. John de Creve-
coeur, John Brown and Henry Tho-
reau were, — a pursuit that implied
education, accuracy, and some knowl-
edge of the world. 'Squire Tom's
oldest brother, Jonathan Leavitt, was
an officer in the Revolution, after-
wards a merchant, and one of the
first citizens of Passamaquoddy, now
Eastport, Me. There he came into
acquaintance with the Eesdernier, or
Delesdernier, family, of Swiss origin,
and still keeping up the French lan-
guage, which was that of their na-
tive Geneva.

When the celebrated Albert Galla-
tin, adventuring to America in 1780,
reached Boston from Gloucester,
where he landed, he was taken in
charge by the Lesderniers, went with
some of them to Machias, and spent
a year on the Maine coast, trading
with Indians, paddling in canoes,
and learning English from the Les-
derniers and their friends. Then he
got an appointment in Harv^ard Col-
lege to teach French, and soon found
his way to Virginia and Pennsylva-
nia, where be became a Democratic
leader.

The Leavitts were also Democrats,
as most of the Revolutionar}' soldiers
in New Hampshire were, and my
grandfather, appointed a justice of
the peace by John Langdon, soon
became a local leader of the party in
his region. As a young man he was
active and ga3^ and his sons, Ben-
son, Joseph and Anthon}' Brackett
(named by his Grandmother Esther
for her ancestor, the slain Indian
fighter) had the same activity, and
soon left the little town to seek for-
tune elsewhere.

FRANK B. SANBORN.

Joseph was to be the heir of his
childless uncle, Brackett Leavitt, in
Pittsfield, where his cousin Norris,
afterwards senator, was growing up
and getting an education. But the
uncle was cut oflf by sudden death,
and the boy returned home till he
was old enough to be taken in charge
by another uncle, his mother's broth-
er, in Boston. Benson also went to
Boston ; in time the two brothers
became merchants in a prosperous
way at the North End, and in 1843,
when I first visited my cousins, their
children, they were living in the two
tenements of a double house in Fleet
Street, not far from Father Taylor's
Seamen's Chapel. A few years after
Dr. Edward Beecher was living in
Charter Street, opposite my Uncle
Benson's house at that time, and
I called on Mrs. Stowe there, fresh
from her success in "Uncle Tom's
Cabin."

A certain sad romance, which
could not extinguish my Uncle
Brackett's natural gaiety of heart,
followed his efforts to establish him-
self in the world. He married early
and migrated to Ann Arbor in Michi-
gan ; was attacked there by the fever
of the region, nearly died, and re-
turned wdth his wife and son to his
father's house to recover health.
There I remember him with his
violin, playing and singing— the
family all having that gift — and
amusing a child like me. Then he
disappeared, going this time to
Orange, near Hanover, N. H., w^here
he bought a farm and carried it on
wdthout much success. Presently he
tried a new move, and w^ent to Illi-
nois, some ten years after Ellerj^
Channing had done the same thing
in a more northern county. The

California gold fever in i848-'49
attacked my uncle, too ; he left his
wife and young family near Peoria,
111., and cros.sed the Plains to Cali-
fornia, where he was prospering, as
he wrote ; but presently tidings of
him ceased. Long afterwards it was
learned that he had been murdered,
and his property taken. Not even
the place of his death is certainly
known to his children, one of whom,
Thomas Eeavitt, has been a state
official of Illinois, after an honorable
career in the Civil War.

Another Thomas Eeavitt, son of
my Uncle Joseph, and named, like
Brackett's son, for his grandfather,
was killed in an Indian fight in what
is now Dakota, as a lieutenant of
an Iowa regiment, enlisted for the
Civil War, but turned aside to fight
the Sioux in the Northwest.

His father, whom I was said much
to resemble in stature and features,
had died of consumption after a long
illness, when I was about sixteen.
This uncle had the same cheerful
turn of mind, and endured his mal-
ady with great patience.

My grandfather, the old 'Squire,
born in 1774, was by 1844 verging
on seventy ; the loss of his sons, the
illness of his wife, and the compara-
tive neglect of his affairs by his ab-
sorption in politics, where he did not
find the official promotion he hoped
for, had combined with increasing
age to diminish his natural high
spirits. He was somewhat given to
bewailing the degeneracy of the
times ; his sons, who faithfully looked
after his affairs, were Whigs, his
grandsons, Charles and myself, were
anti-slavery youths ; he remained a
Jackson Democrat, as did my father.
This caused the old gentleman some

FRANK B. SANBORN.

pangs, but his kindness of heart and
his interest in the family continued.
He visited his descendants in Boston,
and carried his snuffbox into their
parlors and those of their friends.
On his last visit, about 1850, he sat
for his daguerreotype, as he had sat
more than forty years before, to his
Carolina friend, James Akin, and this
final portrait, as I chiefl}^ remember
him, adorns this page. He died in

T. Leavitt, /Et. 75.

1852, when I was fitting for college
at Exeter, and I was struck, in look-
ing at his dead face in the coffin, to
see so much of the 3'outhful expres-
sion there (at 77) which Akin had
caught in his slight sketch of 1808.
The fair and smooth cheek, the clear-
cut features, had taken on an earlier
expression ; and much of this 3'outh-
ful look was afterwards reproduced in
the features and air of my son Victor,
who has investigated the genealogy
of his ancestors in Old England and
New.

So much for the chapter of hered-
ity. I quite agree, however, with old
Master John Sullivan, father of two
state governors, John of New Hamp-'
shire (the General), and James of
Massachusetts, and grandson, as he
said, of four Irish countesses, that
men must be valued for what they are,
not for what their forefathers may
have been. Writing at the age of 93
to his son, the General, the retired
schoolmaster quoted a Latin pair of
distichs, which in English run thus :

Was Adam all men's sire, and Eve their mother ?
Then how can one be nobler than another ?
Ennobled are we not by sire or dame,
Till life and conduct give us noble fame.

Philosophers, who seek to know the
causes of things, are apt to be inter-
ested, however, in the manifold influ-
ences that make men individuals, —
no two alike, even in the same house-
hold, — and it is in the ancestry that
we must look for certain determining
causes, before environment and edu-
cation begin to do their modifying
work on the newly-arrived inhabitant
of earth. Of that environment it is
now time to say something. As I re-
marked in a chapter on " The New
Hampshire Way of Eife," which mj'
son, Mr. Victor Sanborn of Kemil-
worth, 111., induced me to write for
his copious " Sanborn Genealogy " :

"For man}' j-ears the bulk of the
New Hampshire people were farmers
or farm laborers ; the mechanics,
except in the largest towns, worked
on their own land, or some neigh-
bor's, a part of the year ; and the
parish minister, the country doctor,
and lawyer, and the village school-
master all had farms, large or small.
Originall3^ each parish had its par-
sonage or manse, to which more or
less land was attached ; this the par-
son and his sons, with a hired man,

FRANK B. SANBORN.

cultivated, like his parishioners.
The shoemaker who made my first
pair of boots had a few acres, at-
tached to the old house in which he
lived and had his bench ; the black-
smith at the corner of the road might
also be a farmer ; and the carpenters
and cabinet-makers, if they prospered
at all, became landowners. At first
there may have been less of this ' ter-
ritorial democracy,' as Lord Beacons-
field styled it, in New Hampshire
than in Plymouth and some other
colonies. A considerable tendency
raahifested itself among the Cutts,
Champernowns, Atkinsons, Wal-
drons, Gilmans, Dudleys, Weares,
etc. , to establish a distinct class of
gentry, such as existed in England ;
and the Wentworths and their con-
nections maintained an offshoot of
the Anglican church in Portsmouth,
as did the roj^al governors and others
in Boston. But the influences of a
new country, combining with Calvin-
ism, especially where the settlers
were chiefly from the yeomanry and
tradesmen of England and Northern
Ireland, as in New Hampshire, soon
brought about a virtual democracy.
Education, however, was always
highly valued there, and most of the
towns in Rockingham county had a
learned minister or two, preaching to
the majority of the people, catechis-
ing the children in church and school,
and often promoting the higher edu-
cation by opening libraries, giving
instruction in Eatin, and encouraging
the brighter boys to go to the acad-
emy or to college.

' ' In ni}^ own town much was done
in this way by Dr. Eangdon, a re-
tired president of Harvard College,
and his successor in the ministry,
Rev. Jacob Abbot, a first cousin of
Dr. Abbot of Exeter Academy, —
both good scholars of wide reading
and public spirit, who from 1781 to
1827 preached in the meeting house
near by, and lived in the old parson-
age, which was burnt in 1859. At
the southern end of the town, after
Parson Abbot's retirement, the Bap-
tists set up their ' Rockingham Acad-

emy,' a sectarian high school, but not
specially sectarian ; so that for a town
of 700 people and small wealth,
Hampton Falls was well equipped
with the means of education.

" The old-fashioned district school
was in full swing when I was a boy ;
in it everything might be taught,
from the alphabet upwards, to both
sexes and many ages ; there might
be pupils of 20 taught in winter by a
youth of 15 ; often by a college stu-
dent, released in the winter term to
pay his college bills by the money
earned as schoolmaster. Francis
Bowen, the professor and author,
while a student in Harvard, taught in
our ' Red Schoolhouse,' and boarded
with Deacon Eane, my grandfather's
cousin, whose father had inherited
Dr. Eangdon's globes and wig. The
advantages of such a school were ob-
vious ; for though the teacher might
have 40 pupils in 30 classes, to be
taught in 340 minutes, at the rate of
13 minutes to each class, — yet the
younger learned so much from hear-
ing their elders recite, that perhaps
as much knowledge, irregularly
gained, got into the heads of bright
scholars as is now insinuated more
methodically by young women skilled
in the newer modes of teaching.
The terms were short, and arranged
to meet the necessities of farm-labor,
in which most children, even girls,
took some part. They weeded gar-
dens, picked apples and potatoes,
husked corn, carried grain to mill,
and with their mothers did much of
the marketing, both buying and sell-
ing. In berry time they gathered
raspberries, huckleberries, blueber-
ries, wild blackberries, cranberries
and barberries ; and the women of
poorer families carried these about to
the farmhouses for sale, taking in
payment provisions or clothing for
their families, as did the Barrington
basket-making gypsies, in their semi-
annual rounds. One of the latter
class, ' Hippin Pat Leathers ' (a
w^oman) of Whittier's ' Yankee Zin-
cali,' used to whine at my grand-
father's door, ' Haint ye got nerry

FRANK B. SANBORN.

nold jacket, nerry nold gaownd,
nerry nold pair traowses fur tu gimme
fur this 'ere basket?' The huckle-
berry women from Seabrook carried
away from the same door salt pork in
a pail, butter and cheese, and other
means of stocking the Byfield larder. ' '

All this I have seen still surviving ;
but the worst of the rum-drinking
times had yielded, before my recollec-
tion, to the efforts of the early tem-
perance reformers. I have seen simi-
lar cases, but it was in Essex county
that Arthur Gilman, the architect
(born in Newburyport), used to place
the scene of his hero who went about
sawing wood for the "forehanded
folks," and took his pay in rum.
One Saturday he had worked for the
village 'squire, and was offered for
the task a pint of the beverage. "Oh,
now, 'Squire, can't ye make it a
quart ? Haow kin a man keep Sun-
day on a pinto' rum? " " Nonsense,
Jem; you haven't earned more 'n a
pint, — can't you keep the Sabbath on
that much?" "Wa-al, 'Squire, ef
you say so, I s'pose I must : but jest
think on 't, — haow will it be kep' ? "

The seafaring class, who were
rather numerous in the old town of
Hampton, and in Seabrook, Salisbury
and Rye, were specially liable to the
tippling habit ; and when they went
long voyages were apt to come back
with their morals injured. But they
were notable seamen, and great fight-
ers when any naval war gave them a
chance. My mother's cousin, Lewis
Leavitt, perhaps named for Lewis
Delesdernier of Ouoddy, where he
lived, was famous in the annals of the
family for his skill in navigating from
Eastport to Boston in the worst
weather and the darkest night.
Whether this anecdote of him is fact

or fiction I cannot say with confi-
dence ; but it was told and believed
among his kindred. He was skip-
per of a coaster, which in the War of
1812 was captured by a British frig-
ate. A prize crew was put on board,
and she was headed for Halifax.
Captain Leavitt watched his chance,
and at night, when only the watch
and the man at the wheel were on
deck, he applied his great strength
to them, threw them successively
down the hatchway, fastened the
hatches down, took the wheel him-
self, and steered his schooner into a
friendly port. He was Esther Towle's
grandson.

In simple communities such as I re-
member, maiden aunts were a power
and a blessing. One of them, in the
neighborhood of Boston, once told
Theodore Parker, "The position of
a maiden aunt is not to be despised,
Mr. Parker ; without maiden aunts
the world could not be peopled, sir."
In the nursing and pupilage of New
Hampshire children the aunt bore a
great part. I had three maiden
aunts, — my mother's youngest sister,
who stayed at home and kept her
father's house, and after his death
carried on the farm ; and two elder
sisters of my father, who lived with
him in the old house where they were
born. Aunt Dolly, his half sister,
had been brought up, as I have men-
tioned, by her grandmother, Anne
Towle Sanborn, who humored her,
but kept her in a narrow domestic
circle, from which courtship and
marriage never emancipated her.
She had the ways of the i8th cen-
tury, just as she had its dishes and
warming-pans, and ideas of costume.
Never did she go farther from the
houses of her relatives than to Ken-

FRANK B. SANBORN.

singtou, whence ber mother, whom
she never knew, had come ; even
Exeter, the " Suffield " of Miss
Alice Brown, was almost unknown
to her, though but five miles away.
She was purely domestic ; had
certain cooking " resaits " that had
come down to her, and that nobody
else could manage ; sat in her room
or lay in her bed, and knew the
ownership of every horse that passed
the house, by his step. "I wonder
where Major Godfrey was gwine this
mornin' ? His horse went down the
Hampton road about half-past four."
She watched tlie passer-by with an
interest hard for the young to under-
stand ; the narrow limits of her exis-
tence developed curiosity in a micro-
scopic degree. The wayfarer, though
a fool, as she was apt to think him,
was not an indifferent object to her.
She kept track, too, of the minutest
family incidents ; would remind me
the next morning, when I came in
late at night from some visit, or a
private cooking-party in the pine-
woods, "The clock struck two jest
after you shet the door, Frank." But
i&ne had sympathy with youth, and
withheld such revelations from the
head of the family ; though you
would not have said that discretion
was her strong point. She outlived
all her brothers and sisters but one,
and was a neighborhood oracle as to
births, deaths and marriages, without
ever leaving the fireside in her latest
years.

Aunt Rachel was a very different
person. Born five years later (1789)
and dying some years earlier, she had
a most sympathetic, pathetic and at-
tractive character. Fair and delicate
of complexion, blue-eyed, with pleas-
ing features, a sweet, rather sad voice.

she spent her later years (when alone
I knew her), in caring for others.
As a child she had been a favorite
at Dr. Langdon's, who lived just
across a little common and died when
she was but eight years old ; but the
family, including Miss Betsy I^ang-
don, the granddaughter, remained in
the parish longer. A little Italian
engraving from the parsonage was
alwa^'S hung in her ' 'parlor chamber. ' '
She continued intimate at the parson-
age, in the time of the Abbots ; and
and their children, of whom there
were many, grew up under her eye,
and were cared for by her in their
earlier and after years. Aunt Rachel
was skilled in all household arts, par-
ticularly in spinning, weaving and
gardening ; had her beds of sage and
lavender, her flowers of the older
kinds, introduced from Dr. Langdon's
garden, I suppose ; and was the
maker of simple remedies from herbs,
delicious wines from currants, and
metheglin from honey and other for-
gotten ingredients. Mr. Treadwell's
"Herb-Gatherer," that pleasing
poem which he sent from Connecticut
to Ellery Channing, and which Chan-
ning revised until it seemed almost
his own, and gave to me to print in
the Springfield Republican, had
touches that recalled my dear aunt to
me, after many years.

Aunt Rachel had her romance in
youth ; a pretty creature, she had
been wooed by one who, wandering
about in the wider world little seen by
her, found sojne richer or more bril-
liant match, and broke off the engage-
ment. This happened long before I
was born, and I never saw him ; but
I believe the fine musket in which I
learned to insert the bullets I had run
in the wooden mould, and sometimes

FRANK B. SANBORN.

hit the target with them, was his
once, and had his initials in the silver
mounting. He had wounded a tender
heart with a more cruel weapon : and
I fancied I read regrets for the dream
of youth in the tears I sometimes saw
falling, as my aunt spun in the long
garret at the west window of which I
sat and read my Waverley Novels.
Her sister, nine years younger, had
made an unluckj^ marriage, with
many children and much hardship ;
and Aunt Rachel w^as often called to
go to Brentwood and look after the
young family and the delicate mother,
who seemed to have inherited con-
sumption (according to theories then
prevailing) from her mother, my
grandmother Sanborn, who died eight
years before I was born. She per-
formed this duty cheerfully ; had
taken care of her own mother in her
last illness, then of her father and
sister ; and of many invalids who died
or recovered. These charities called
her much from home, and I saw far
less of her than of Aunt Dolly, her
half-sister, who was as much a part of
the old house as the oak arm-chair in
the kitchen, or the chimney corner
cat. But she impressed my imagina-
tion more ; she was gentle by nature
and by grace, and deserves not to be
forgotten. Had I been blessed with
a daughter, I would have named her
Rachel.

I have mentioned her spinning.
Of the hundred farmhouses in the
town w^hen I was ten years old, more
than fifty must have had looms, and
all had the large spinning wheel for
wool spinning. The garret of every
one contained disused flax wheels, al-
though a few farmers still grew flax,
lovely with its blue flowers. But all
kept sheep, and sheared them in

June ; then had the wool made up in
great bundles, wrapt in old linen
sheets, spun and woven by an earlier
generation, and pinned up with thorns
from the bush of white thorn in the
pasture, to be carried to the carding-
mill. It was then brought home in
"rolls," spun into yarn by the women
of the house, and woven into cloth or
knit into socks, buskins and mittens for
the family. This homespun cloth was
then sent to the " fulling-mill " to be
dyed and fulled ; finally brought back
to be cut by the neighborhood tailor
and made up into suits for the family,
by the " tailoress," who went about
from house to house for the purpose.
Of the children at the district school,
not more than one in twenty wore any-
thing in winter but this home-made
cloth. In summer they wore the cheap
cotton from the New England factories
and calicoes of the "ninepenny" vari-
ety. The boys mostly w'ent barefoot
till twelve, and the girls sometimes.

Gradually, after 1840, the town be-
came dotted with shoe shops, where
the young men and some of their
elders made sale shoes for the manu-
facturers of Lynn and Haverhill ; the
women in the houses "binding" the
uppers before the soles were stitched
on in the shoe shops. My brother
and I learned this art ; he to perfec-
tion, I rather awkwardly ; and it was
from the profits of my first box of
shoes that I paid the cost of my foot
journey to the White Mountains, in
September, 1850. Soon after this I
began to prepare for Harvard College,
at the suggestion of dear friends, and
had no difficulty in entering a 3'ear in
advance, in July, 1852. Up to that
time I had mostly lived at home in
the surroundings described, taking
part in the labors and the leisure por-

FRANK B. SANBORN.

Frank Sanborn (August, 1853), /Et. 21

trayed in my first chapter. The ac-
companying portrait, from a daguer-
reotype taken in 1853, represents the
student and lover that I was, during
this period of my ' ' obscure and golden
youth," as Thoreau says. Amid
many anxieties and mortifications, I

was happ3', b}' reason o the romantic
love which my next chapter will
relate. It was a part, and an idyllic
part, of my New Hampshire life ; and
with its close I became a citizen of
Massachusetts and the world.

[TV be cotitinued.^

MIDSUMMER.

By Eva J. Beede.

Soft the song the leaves are singing.

Tufted is the waving grass ;
Butterflies, like air flowers, winging

Where the earth flowers may not pass.

Golden cups, the crowfoot swaying,
Catch the sunshine and the dew ;

Balmy zephyrs, gently playing,
Coy and blushing roses woo.

Cool the tents the elm trees, spreading
Forth their grateful leaf shade, make

Witching beams, the bright moon shedding,
All the sleeping fairies wake.

EDITORIAL NOTES.

" ?

! U 1f«' ! ^ ' H li I

»w*..,-,, N'-'iiu i^hiHi^t 'K^f ,:,■■, vv '7;^!:"'

rsfcr

4.- ii

" '1 II,:. , , ,i

'I »

» •» « « tl«,.> I ., ,i ,1

Autos at Bretton Woods.

The cut will demonstrate the favor the White Mountain region has received
at the hands of automobilists this season. The photograph was taken in front
of the New Mount Washington Hotel at Bretton Woods and shows one of the
good roads on this estate and a party enjoying a short run. The first car is
a Winton, being driven by Harry Fosdick of Boston, Mass. In it are seated
Governor and Mrs. Bachelder.

An Automobile Law.

It is generally agreed that the next
Legislature will pass some sort of a law
establishing the maximum speed of
automobiles upon the highways of the
state. Several bills of that nature
were introduced at the last session,
but all failed of passage. Since then,
the automobile has been a more com-
mon user of our highways. It can be
safely said that the great majority of
the drivers of such vehicles conduct
them reasonably and wuth regard for
the rights of others upon the avenues
of travel. But there is now and then
an auto-car driver who is reckless and

inconsiderate, and because of him,
definite and stringent regulations are
necessar}^ for his restraint or for his
punishment. In the framing of a law
that shall fairly meet all of the vary-
ing conditions, much consideration
should be given. Some weeks ago
this paper printed the views of some
of the leading automobilists of Man-
chester as to the provisions such a bill
should contain, which attracted much
attention and some comment.

The real centre of motor cars in New
Hampshire this season has been Bret-
ton Woods. They have been there
by scores and of all styles and descrip-
tions. Discussions pertaining to all

EDITORIAL.

phases of the business have been gen-
eral. Now at the close of the sea-
son, John Anderson gives the follow-
ing interesting summary of his views
as to the provisions of such a law, in
the editorial columns of The Bziglc,
under the caption of "A Starter " :

' ' Bretton Woods favors a state law
to restrict speed of motor cars to
eighteen miles in the lowlands and
twelve miles in the mountains, and
half speed in passing houses or within
100 yards of the vanishing point of a
road on curves or the point beyond
which the road is is not in full view ;
and the same provision where a short
hill hides the road beyond. A full
stop for frightened horses, and the as-
sistance of the chauffeur or other mem-
ber of the auto party to help lead the
horse or team by, when such as-
sistance may be needed or asked.

' ' The horn to be sounded three
times at each point where the road is
not seen to be clear at least one hun-
dred yards ahead.

* 'Twenty'- dollars fine for first of-
fense, one half to con.stable ; impris-

onment for second offense (one half to
constable if he wants it)." — Manches-
ter Union, Sept. 28, 1904.

* *
*

Road Improvement Under
State Sopervision.

FOREvST LAKE ROAD IN WHITK-
FIELD AND DALTON.

This is a road to a beautiful little
lake, and a favorite resort for peo-
ple of Littleton and vicinity. The
road was built by the state of New
Hampshire in 1901 ; it is one and one
half miles long, and by the appropria-
tions of the last Legislature, has in
the past two seasons been made a
model country road. Good ditches
have been dug and the drainage
perfected. Mud holes have been
filled and the entire length rounded
up and surfaced with good material,
and this summer the road was hard
and in perfect condition. The sur-
face is as good, hard and smooth as
that of any macadamized road in the
country.

On Forest Lake Road

EDITORIAL.

Before.

The cuts will give some idea of work done by the state of New Hampshire
on its roads the past two seasons.

The photographs were taken at a point about one mile from Bretton Woods,
on the new state road between Fabyans and Twin Mountain, at what is
known as the rock cut.

The first picture shows the condition after the blasting, and before the re-
moval of the rock. Steam-power drills were used, and the holes charged with
hundreds of pounds of dynamite.

EDITORIAL.

After.

The second picture shows the finished road, the rock having been removed
and the roadway surfaced.

The bridge shown in both pictures crosses the Animonoosuc River, and is
built of steel, strong enough to sustain a train of railroad cars. The abut-
ments are built of Portland cement concrete. This is probably the first con-
crete masonry used in highway work in New Hampshire. This makes the
whole a beautiful and thoroughly strong and permanent structure.

From a point just beyond this bridge may be seen the Ammonoosuc Lower
Falls and the great gorge in the solid rock, which is one of the many attrac-
tions in this White Mountain region.

SPORTSi^EN . . .

I do everything in Taxidermy. Send me your
trophies for mounting. Deer Heads a Specialty.

GEO. P. WELLINGTON,

The Reliable Taxidermist,

Send for Price List. EAST JAFFREY, N. H.

RUMFORD PRINTING COMPANY,

Railroad Square > CONCORD, N. H.

Reproduced by Czleiitoii, A^as/iua, N. H .

ABRAHAM LINCOLN,

The Granite Monthly.

Vol. XXXVH,

(X^TOBER-DECEMBEK, 1904.

Nos. 4-().

A Section of the Jefferson Notch Road.
lmpro7'ed by State Highiuay Commission, rgo3-''04. This road was formerly a mass of mud, hiib»dee/>.

STATE HIGHWAY WORK IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.

By John W. Storrs, Civil Engineer.

The report of the state highway
commission, of which John Anderson
of Bretton Woods, Charles F. East-
man of Littleton and George E. Cum-
mings of Woodsville were members,
is so modest in tone that it gives but
an indefinite idea of what has actually
been accomplished in highway work
and improvement under their direc-
tion.

The people of New Hampshire are
certainly entitled to know more fully
the details of the work done and the

satisfactory results of their under-
taking.

The bill as passed by the last Legis-
lature made an appropriation of $32,-
000, to be expended by this commis-
sion on the improvements of certain
roads that then had been started, but
not finished, and for the building of
new roads.

The bill authorized the commis-
sioners to survey and locate a high-
way, beginning at the base of IMount
Washington, at a point in the Thomp-

STATE HIGHWAY WORK.

sou and Meserve purchase, at the
easterly terminus of what is known
as the Mount Washington Turnpike,
thence over said turnpike as it now
exists, to the point of its intersection
with the Porthmd road, so called,
near the Fabyau House, thence over
said road to an iron pin driven in the
ground. From here the bill provided
for building a new road, about a mile

being a distance of eight and a half
miles.

It was provided, however, that this
last part should be built, not for a
carriage road, and specified that only
$5,000 should be used in its construc-
tion. The entire distance covered by
the survey and location of this road
is about twenty-two miles. That the
commission faithfull.v performed this

Profile Bridle Trail, Eight
Built by State Hi^liway Coviiiiission, rgoj-''04

in length, and then to cross the Am-
monoosuc River, and use the old road
for a distance of about a mile, then
cross the river again, building a new
road about two and a half miles in
length, and coming again on to the old
road near the Twin Mountain House,
thence over an old road, a distance of
about two miles, and then build a new
road to the Chase farm, or Profile
House golf links, this last stretch

and One Half Miles Long.

This was >iot httejidcd for a carriage road.

part of their duty is shown by an ele-
gant and accurate set of plans which
they caused to be filed with the secre-
tary of state. These plans are* on
twelve different sheets of heavy
mounted white paper and bound with
cloth cover in such a way that they
may be easily taken out and used
separately.

The plans show the location of the
old roads as thev now exist and the

STATE HIGHWAY WORK

new roads as located and bnilt, with
curves, distances, etc., and a record of
the hmdowners and reference to deeds
of the rights of way as conveyed to
the state. These plans give definite
information, so valuable to the engin-
eer for reference and future opera-
tions, and make a permanent record.
The bill authorized improvements

The road follows down the southerly
slope, crossing various brooks, large
and small, to what is known as Twin
River farm. This division is about
ten miles in length.

The Southern division begins here
and follows along (at about the same
general elevation of 1,900 feet above
the sea) the base of the Presidential

Another View on Profile Bridle Trail.

on the Jefferson Notch road. This
I'oad may properly be divided into
two parts, and locally is called the
Northern and Southern division. The
former begins at the E. A. Crawford
house at- Jefferson Highlands, and
winds down the hill into the valley of
the Israels River, and then follows up
the south branch to the summit of
Jefferson Notch, where it reaches an
elevation of 3,000 feet above the sea.

Range from Mount Washington to
the Crawford House, at the famous
Crawford Notch. This division cov-
ers a distance of about four miles.
This road was originally put through
(and was passable, but never fin-
ished), and was a difficult undertak-
ing. It was through a rough, rugged
country and away from habitation.
Rocks, trees and stumps were abund-
ant, but dirt or anything suitable for

STATE HIGHWAY WORK.

Section of Road between Fabyans and Twin Mountain House, Showing Side-Hill Cut.

road building was scarce and hard to
get.

This commission found a bit?
amount of work to be done here, and
the question was how to begin and
what to do that could be done.

The Southern division seemed to
demand attention first, as it was
needed most. Here was a continua-
tion of mud and mud-holes. One of
these was about one quarter of a mile
long, while another was over half a
mile in length — real mud, too. Where
in ordinary dry times a wagon wheel
would go down clear to the hub, at
some previous time brush, tree tops

and shavings had been used to fill or
cover this mud up, but without good
results. In fact, the conditions were
probably worse.

The commissioners decided that the
only way to do was to shovel out the
Avhole mess, — ^brush, shavings, mud
and all. This was done, good ditches
were dug, good under drainage pro-
vided, the roadway was filled with
brolcen rocks and stones, and finally
surfaced with good road material.
This latter had to be drawn in some
eases over a mile.

The whole of this division was care-
fully gone over, and this past season

STATE HIGHWAY WORK

has been in good condition. The
parts of the road that were the worst
are now the best.

On the Northern division long
stretches were rounded up and sur-
faced, obstructions removed from
ditches and water-ways. This latter
required lots of blasting, and hun-
dreds of pounds of dj^namite were
used.

Good material, or in fact any kind
of dirt, was not handy and it was
necessary to go long distances for
proper surfacing material. To add
to the troubles of the commission, the
cloudburst of June, 1903, destroyed
completely parts of this road.

No one who was not familiar with
the conditions as this commission
found them can realize or appreciate

the amount of woi'lc done here and
the good results accomplished. What
has been done may be considered as
permanent, but, like all roads, must
be taken care of to be maintained in
its present condition. The appropri-
ation that they recommend is princi-
pally for completing and finishing
those parts of the road that were
destroyed by the cloudburst, and for
building two bridges.

The new road, not a carriage road,
built from near the Twin Mountain
House to the Chase farm or Profile
House golf links, is in the mountains
called the Profile bridle trail, and at
the golf links connects wdth a road to
Franconia, Sugar Hill and Littleton,
and with another road to the Profile
House, a distance of three miles.

Road between Fabyans and Twin Mountain House.
Built by the State Hi'gh^uay Coiinntssiou, rgoj-'o^.

lOO

STATE HIGHWAY WORK.

The Profile bridle trail is eight and
a half miles long and opens up a
beautiful, heavily wooded country,
and when improved for carriages will
be one of the most delightful drives
in the mountains, and the connecting
link between the base of Mount
Washington and Bretton Woods, and
the Profile House in the famous Fran-
conia Notch with its lakes, the Old
]Man of the ]\Iountain and other scenic
attractions.

The commission laid out this road
with regard to its probable future im-
provement for carriages, and care-
fully located it with reference to
avoiding steep grades, railroads, etc.

If the road is ever completed along
the lines proposed, there will be no
place that a team of horses cannot
trot at a good pace. There will be
two bridges, one across Gale River,
and the other, an overhead bridge,
over the tracks of a branch of the
Boston & Llaine Railroad. The com-
mission obtained the right of wav
four rods Avide, and took deeds from
the landowners which are on file with
the state treasurer. They cleared the
timber, stumps, rocks and boulders
for a width of twenty feet, and used
quantities of dynamite in these oper-
ations.

They made a good road for horse-
back riding, and a road that it has
been possible to get over with teams.
Governor Bachelder and his council
drove over this road on their inspec-
tion with a four-horse mountain
wagon. This party were well pleased
and satisfied with the character and
amount of work done.

The pride of the mountains is the
road built by this commission between

Fabyans and Twin Mountain. The
length of this new road is about three
and a half miles. The bill author-
ized its location between definite
points marked by iron pins.

The road crosses the Ammonoosuc
River four times, and there are two
bridges over the Zealand River. The
bridges are pile trestles, with one ex-
ception, and this, at the lower falls
of the Ammonoosuc, is a beautiful
and substantial steel bridge with
massive concrete masonry abutments.
The maximum grade on this road is
ten per cent.

The work was in places heavy, in
one place a deep ledge cut, where
hundreds of pounds of dynamite had
to be used in blasting out the rock;
in other places deep cuts and heavy
side hill work. The trestle bridges
are built with oak piles and Georgia
hard pine stringers covered with
hemlock plank. They are eighteen
feet wide.

The roadway is sixteen feet wide,
besides the ditches, and was surfaced
with material at hand. This road
was built in part to avoid four rail-
road crossings, and in all places keeps
well away from the railroad. This
adds very materially to its attractive-
ness as a pleasure drive to visitors at
the mountain hotels.

The scenery from this road includes
a grand view of the Presidential
Range, a view up the Zealand River
Valley from Glacial Ridge, the lower
falls of the Ammonoosuc, and the
many beautiful little glimpses of the
river which it follows, in part, as it
winds around at the base of foothills
of the Sugar Loaf Mountain.

CRAYON I'OirrKAIT ()F ABRAHAM J.LNC'OLN.

H)! Willi'ini <). ('/()n;//i

A few months ago one of the pop-
ular magazines* of the day pub-
lished the accompanying portrait of
Abraham Lincoln, and with it a brief
statement, and nothing more of im-
portance, that a New York gentleman
is the owner of the only artist 's proof
known to be in existence. There is,
however, another copy, and it is the
property of the writer.

This portrait of the martyred pres-
ident was made at Springfield, 111., in
1860, following his nomination to the
presidency, by C. A. Barry, a noted
Massachusetts artist of that day. It
is, as artists of today must admit, a
striking likeness in bold treatment,
and so unlike any of the many por-
traits of the great emancipator that
have been given to the public in late
years as to attract attention and ad-
miration.

The student of art will be impressed
with the gracefulness of the pose,
the unaffected expression in which
character is brought out, and also by
the breeziness of the IMiddle West,
which gives tone to it. Rigiclness,
which minimizes the effect of many of
the portraits of Mr. Lincoln, is made
flexible, and to emphasize the intel-
lectual mind and sterling qualities of
head and heart that made him a man
of the people, the unerring judge win:)
estimated his fellow men at their pre-
cise value to a cause, the astute poli-

tician, the statesman with acumen to
grasp the intricate problems of gov-
ernment, and mould seemingly widely
divergent forces into their proper re-
lation to the destiny of our country.
It is also Lincoln in whom is discover-
able the genial and kindly bearing of
the child of the prairie, the individ-
uality that caused him to be loved and
trusted by men and women of his gen-
eration, and whose memory will be
cherished so long as history is written
and read.

This crayon portrait of Mr. Lincoln
was a gift to the writer some twenty
years ago by a physician", who, by
reason of age and infirmities, was dis-
mantling his office. He saw that I
admired it, whereupon he related to
me the circumstances under which he
obtained it, and also gave me the art-
ist's story that accompanied it. Later,
much to my gratification and sur-
prise, he sent it to my residence with
his compliments.

"It was presented to me," he said,
"by a patient of mine*, a relative
of Artist Barry. There is not the
shadow of a doubt of its genuineness.
I was her family physician for many
years, and it was made mine in rec-
ognition of my attention to her in a

*The National Magazine.

t The late Dr. T. H. Gibby, Nashua.

t Mrs. Eben Mclntire, Nashua. It is a singular
circum.stance that the last member of the family
—a former Nashua shoe-dealer, noted vocalist
and Knijjht Templar Mason— died at his home in
Philadelphia since this article was prepared. It
i.s also a circumstance that Dr. Qibby's only
daughter, only child as well, is a resident of
Philadelphia.

I02

ABRAHAM LINCOLX.

protracted illness. There are proba-
bly other copies in existence, but of
that I have no information. ' '

Artist Barry's account of his visit
to Springfield, and the circumstances
and conditions under which he ob-
tained the sittings and made the por-
trait was as follows :

"It was late in the afternoon of the
last Saturday in June, 1860, when I
found myself in front of a small, two-
storied house, almost entirely sur-
rounded by a plain white paling, in
the City of Springfield, 111. I had
journeyed from Boston at the request
of certain prominent Republicans of
Massachusetts, bearing a letter of in-
troduction from Governor N. P.
Banks to solicit sittings from Abra-
ham Lincoln.

"My intention was to make a
crayon drawing (portrait) from life
that could be used on my return to
Boston as a study for reproduction on
stone by an eminent lithographer. It
was quite late in the afternoon, as I
have said, when I arrived in Spring-
field, so I went at once to the front
door of the now well known house and
rang the bell, little suspecting the
amusing bit of experience that came
next. Suddenly the door was thrown
violently against the wall, revealing
to my notice a very small boy strad-
dling across the passagewa5^

" 'Hallo, mister!' screamed the
small boy, ' what der want ? '

" 'I want,' I replied, 'to see Mr.
Lincoln. I have come all the way
from Boston to talk with him.' In
an instant, before my lips closed, in
fact, the small boy shouted out:

" 'Come down, "Pop,"; here's a
man from Boston to see you,' and
thus saying, he wheeled himself upon

one foot and vanished through the
end of the hall somewhere, leaving
me as he found me, standing in
the doorway. But I had not long
to wait, for the good, the immortal
Lincoln immediately came down-
stairs, holding out a great hand
of welcome towards me. 'They want
my head, do they? Well, if you can
get it you may have it ; that is, if you
are able to take it off while I am on
the jump. But no quills in my nose ;
I have had enough of that ; and don 't
fasten me into a chair ! '

' ' I learned afterwards from his own
lips that he had never sat for a por-
trait, except photographic ones, bnt
that Sculptor Folk of Chicago had
'plastered' him, so he termed it, some-
time in 1858, for a bust. The ar-
rangement, as made between Mr. Lin-
coln and myself, was that we were to
meet at his room in the court house
on the following Monday morning at
seven o'clock, and this is the way
the said arrangement came about.
Twisting Governor Banks' letter in
his large furrowed hands, he said:

" ' I suppose you Boston folks don 't
get up at cock-crowing as we do out
here. I'm an early riser, and my ris-
ing don't mean nine o'clock in the
morning, by any means. Now, I "11'
tell you what we'll do. You come to
my room at the court house on ]\Ion-
day at seven sharp, and I will be there
to let you in.'

"The good man evidently thought
he had me on the hip, so to speak, as
he said this, for he shook his side most
heartily with suppressed laughter
when he was bidding me good night.

"But Monday morning came, and
seven o'clock came, and at precisely
that hour I turned the corner of the

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

103

street upon which the court house
faced to see, coming towards me from
the other end of the sidewalk, my,
queer sitter.

" 'Well done, my boy,' he said, as
we shook hands, 'y.ou are an early
bird, after all, if you do hail from
Boston. '

' ' I told him I was rarely in bed af-
ter daybreak and nuich of my best
work was done before breakfast. And
so. pleasantly chatting, we went up
to his room together.

" 'Now, then, what shall I do?' he
inquired, pointing to a large pile of
unopened letters upon a table.

" 'Absolutely nothing,' I replied,
'but to allow me to Avalk around you
occasionally and once in a while meas-
ure a distance upon your face. I
will not disturb you in the least other-
wise.'

" 'Capital,' said my distinguished
sitter, smiling pleasantly, 'I won't be
in the least bit scared; go right
ahead. '

"Then he threw off his coat and,
sitting in front of the table in his
shirt sleeves, plunged his hand into
the great heap of letters before him,
leaving me to begin my task. How
vividly it all comes back to me as I
write. The lonely room, the great
bony figure with its long arms, and
legs that seemed to be continually
twisting themselves together; the
long, wiry neck, the narrow chest, the
uncombed hair, the cavernous sockets
beneath the high forehead, the bushy
eyebrows hanging like curtains over
the bright, dreamy eyes, the awkward
speech, the pronounced truthfulness
and patience ; and lastly, the sure feel-
ing in his heart that coming events,
whatever they might be, would come

to him and to the American people
straight from the hand of God. A
marked look of depression upon his
face at times gave me no end of trou-
ble. There was a far-away look about
the eyes very often, as if the great
spirit behind them was conscious of
terrible trials to come, as if there was
a mighty struggle going on in the
bosom of the living man that living
men must not know of until the time
was ripe for them to know; such a
struggle as Jesus knew in his agony
after the arrest; as Savonarola knew
when he was fighting single-handed
the church of Rome; as Luther knew
when he stood before his judge at the
Diet of Worms; as Cromwell knew
at the head of his thousands of men;
as Theodore Parker knew when the
whole Christian world, with one or
two exceptions, held him in utter ab-
horrence.

' ' I worked faithfully upon the por-
trait, studying every feature most
carefully for ten days, and was more
than fully rewarded for my labor
when Mr. Lincoln, pointing to the
picture, said : ' Even my enemies must
declare that to be a true likeness of
"old Abe".' "

The portrait was exhibited in Chi-
cago at the Tremont House, in New
York at the room of George Ward
Nichols, and Boston at the rooms of
the old Mercantile Library Associa-
tion on Summer Street. It was litho-
graphed most excellently for those
days and could have been seen in
many places in. Boston and elsewhere
on the w^eek following the assassina-
tion. A month later not a copy was
to be obtained for love nor money,
and therefore it is more than prob-
able that there are more copies in ex-

I04

COL. AMOS A. PARKER.

istence than is believed by "the New
York gentleman."

Artist Bany related this as a part
of his experience in connection with
the portrait : ' ' When it was on exhibi
tion in Mr. Nichols' room in New
York and standing on an easel in the
middle of the room facing Broadway,
a short, thick-set gentleman walked in.
He did not speak to me; I did not
speak to him. He stood a short dis-
tance from the picture for a little

while, then — I had turned my head to
look at him — stepped forward and,
folding his arms across his breast, said
slowly with clear utterance : ' An hon-
est man, God knows.' The next in-
stant he passed out of the room. It
was Stephen A. Douglass." The last
that was known of the original por-
trait — made in 1860, and the first
made of Mr. Lincoln from life — it
was owned by Mrs. E. A. Hilton,
Commonwealth Avenue, Boston.

SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF COL. AMOS A.

PARKER.

By Atnos J. Blake, Esq.

Amos Andrew Parker was born in
Fitzwilliam, October 8, 1791. At the
time of his death he was the oldest living
graduate of any American college and
member of the bar in New England. He
died at the home of his youngest son,
Hon. lohn M. Parker, in Fitzwilliam,
Ma}' 12, 1893, aged loi years, 7 months
and 4 days.

He was the fourth of the nine child-
ren of Hon. Nahum Parker, a United
States senator, and for twenty years a
judge of the Court of Common Pleas of
this state. A brief sketch of his distin-
guished father and of his public services
rendered to the state and nation will not
be out of place at this time.

Hon. Nahum Parker was born in
Shrewsbury, Mass., March 4, 1760. His
father was Amos Parker of Lexington,
Mass., a brother of Jonas Parker, who
was one of the eight men killed in Cap-
tain Parker's company of Minute Men
on Lexington Common on the memora-
ble nineteenth of April, 1775. The

name of Jonas Parker is on the Lexing-
ton monument.

Amos Parker was born July 26, 1723,
and died at Shrewsbury, December 23,
1790. His wife was Anna Stone, born
October 21, 1726, and died November
1 3) 1799- They had nine children ; the
two oldest were born in Lexington, the
others in Shrewsbury.

Nahum was their seventh child and
at the early age of sixteen he entered the
Revolutionary Army from Shrewsbury.
How long he remained in the army we
have no means at hand to determine.
He kept a diary at the time and if that
could be consulted, the question might
possiby be settled.

In the year 1817, when pensions
were granted to all Revolutionary sol-
diers, he applied for a pension, and as
evidence of services performed he sent
to the secretary of war, John C. Calhoun,
his diary, accompanied by an affidavit
stating that he was the identical man
who performed the services mentioned

COL, AMOS A, PARKER.

io6

COL. AMOS A. PARKER.

therein, and at once received his pension
certificate; the secretary remarking that
the evidence was conclusive, for no man
could make such a diary without having
performed the services. He was pres-
ent at the surrender of Burgoyne at Sara-
toga in 1777.

After the war he married Mary Deeth
of Gerry (now Phillipston), Mass., Au-
gust II, 1783. After living a short time
in Gerry, he moved to Shrewsbury in
1784, and in March, 1786, he came to
Fitzwilliam and settled on a farm, now
owned by Harvey A. Clark, on the east
side of the town. He resided thereuntil
the day of his death.

The "History of Fitzwilliam" truth-
fully says of him : "The ability and
fidelity of Mr. Parker were at once recog-
nized by the people of Fitzwilliam, and
he was soon called to fill offices of trust.
October 17, 1792, the proprietors of this
township elected him as their clerk and
treasurer, and he held these offices till
the closing up of the business of the
proprietors in 1815. Though not edu-
cated as a lawyer, he was well acquainted
with the forms and merits of civil pro-
ceedings, and brought to all his public
duties a well-trained mind ; a habit of
exactness in all the calls issued by him
for legal meetings, and in the record of
the same, and the utmost fidelity in
accounting for the funds in his posses-
sion. To all these qualifications for a
public servant he added an almost fault-
less penmanship, so that from the date
of his election as clerk of the proprie-
tors, their record books become easy of
comprehension.

"In 1790 Mr. Parker's name first
appears upon the records of Fitzwilliam
as one of the selectmen, and he held this
office for four successive years. Begin-
ning with 1792 he was often moderator
of the town meetings. In 1794 he was

chosen to represent this town in the state
legislature, and was re-elected annually
till 1804, or for the period of ten years.
In 1806 he was again chosen representa-
tive."

He had eleven commissions as justice
of the peace and quorum throughout the
state. His first commission is dated
January 9, 1794, and signed by Josiah
Bartlett, governor, and the last is dated
December 20, 1836, and signed by
Isaac Hill, governor.

Of the eleven commissions three were
signed by John Langdon, three by John
Taylor Oilman and one each by Josiah
Bartlett, Samuel Bell, Davil L. Morrill,
Matthew Harvey and Isaac Hill. He
had three commissions as judge of the
Court of Common Pleas. The first is a
commission as "Chief Justice of the
Court of Common Pleas for the County
of Cheshire," dated February 3, 1807,
and signed by John Langdon.

The second is a commission as "An
Associate Justice of our Circuit Court
of Common Pleas for the Western Cir-
cuit," dated July 13, 1813, and signed
by John T. Oilman.

The third is a commission as "An
Associate Justice of the Court of Com-
mon Pleas for the County of Cheshire,"
signed by William Plummer, governor,
and dated July 5, 18 16. During all the
years in which Judge Parker held the
office, and discharged the duties of judge,
Cheshire county included within its lim-
its the present county of Sullivan.
Cheshire county, incorporated March
19, 1 77 1, was one of the five original
counties into which the province was
then divided, Keene and Charlestown
being the shire towns.

July 5, 1827, the county of Cheshire
was divided ; its northern portion being
taken to form the county of Sullivan,
which was named in honor of Hon. Tohn

COL. AMOS A. PARKER. 107

iJorn March 4, 1760.

Sullivan of Durham. In 18 13 the NAIIUM PARKER.

"Western Circuit," as it was called,

included the then counties of Cheshire,

(irafton and Coos; the largest in the M>pointed Chief Justice of the Court of Com-

. T 1 T, 1 , 1 • >^- "1"" Pleas in 1807.

state, and Judge Parker "rode his Cir- y,^^-^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ j^^^ ^^^^, Hampsiiire

cuit" (as it was then termed) on horse- from 1806 to rSio.

back with his saddle bags, in one of ,^. , ^.

° ^ Died November 12, 1839.

which he carried the famous "Green

Bag," containing his court papers. The subject of this sketch, Amos

reports, statutes and other law books Andrew Parker, attended the district

for reference, and in the other his change school in Fitzwilliam during the short

of wardrobe and other articles, being terms kept in his district, and when the

absent from home frequently during the school was not in session, worked upon

terms of court in his district, from five his father's farm until 15 years of age,

to ten weeks at a time. In 1805 and when he formed the purpose of obtain-

1806 he was elected and served as coun- ing a collegiate eduction. He took a

cilor from the "Old Fifth Councilor preparatory course of one year under

District." In i828-'29 he was senator the instruction of his pastor, the Rev.

to the General Court from District No. John Sabin, and a three years' course at

g, and was one of the leading members New Ipswich Academy, under the tuition

of that body. June 13, 1806, he was of Oliver Swain Taylor, who at that time

elected a senator from New Hampshire was principal of the institution,

in the United States Congress for the In June, 18 10, he entered the Univer-

full term of six years, but finding his sity of Vermont in the Sophomore year,

duties as judge and senator too onerous, and graduated in 18 13 at the age of

and moreover, sometimes conflicting in 22 years, ranking second in his class,

point of time, he resigned his ofiice as He was appointed to deliver an English

senator after a service of three years, oration, with the place of honor in the

and continued to hold the office of joint exhibition of the Junior and Senior

judge. classes; the Greek oration at the Junior

In all the civil, social and religious exhibition and the salutatory address in

affairs of the town. Judge Parker was Latin at Commencement,

prominent for a long series of years. Soon after graduation he went to

His honesty, ability and fidelity being Fredericksburg, Va., and was engaged

universally acknowledged by his towns- as a teacher in the family of a wealthy

men, and in fact throughout the state, planter, where he remained three years.

Of his kindness to the poor and afflicted He then returned to New Hampshire

many instances are related by aged citi- and commenced the study of law in the

zens, and his influence was invariably office of James Wilson, Sr., of Keene,

in favor of the culture and good morals completing his course with Hon. Levi

of the people. Chamberlain, who was at that time in the

He died at his homestead November practice of law at Fitzwilliam. He was

12, 1839, aged 80 years; and a substan- admitted to the bar in 182 1, and coni-

tial granite monument marks his resting menced the practice of his profession in

place in our public cemetery, with the Epping immediately after, where he

following inscription thereon : remained until 1823, when he moved

io8

COL. AMOS A. PARKER.

to Concord to accept the editor-
ship of the New Hampshire Statesman.

In 1824 and 1825 he was commis-
sioned and served as aid on the stafif of
Governor Morrill, from which office he
received his title of colonel. While re-
siding at Concord, he was delegated as
one of the governor's aids to proceed to
Boston and invite General Lafayette to
visit New Hampshire. This was in
June, 1824. The General kindly ac-
cepted the invitation, but desired that
his visit to New Hampshire be deferred
until the following year, and accordingly
in June, 1825, Colonel Parker made the
same journey to Boston with proper
equipage to convey the distinguished
French soldier and statesman to Con-
cord.

The equipage consisted of a ba-
rouche with four horses, an elegant
stage-coach with four horses, and a two-
horse carriage for the baggage. The
General was accompanied by his son,
George Washington Lafayette, and his
private secretary and a body-servant.
General Lafayette was then 67 years of
age, well preserved, and in good health.

After Colonel Parker's retirement from
active professional life, he published a
work of 150 pages entitled "Recollec-
tions of Lafayette and his Visit to
America." After leaving Concord he
practised his profession at Exeter and
at Kingston, and returned from the
latter place to his native town in 1837,
and continued the practice of the law.

While residing at Exeter Colonel Par-
ker made a long excursion to the West,
and on his return, published a valuable
book (which was one of the first of its
kind), entitled "A Trip to the West and
Texas." It was published in three edi-
tions of 5,000 copies each, and had a
rapid sale. He also published a book
of poems in his eightieth year, and

wrote many stories, articles for maga-
zines, and newspaper contributions. In
his native town after 1837. he held nearly
every office in the gift of the people, and
took a very active part in the measures
adopted to suppress the Rebellion, fur-
nishing three sons for the Union Army,
one of whom died in the service. He
had received and held 15 commis-
sions as a justice of the peace and quo-
rum of five years each, covering a space
of 75 years, his first commission bearing
date June 22, 1^22.

For several years he was a trustee of
the New Hampshire Asylum for the
Insane, a director of the Ashuelot Fire
Insurance Company, a director of the
Cheshire County Bank (now Keene Na-
tional Bank), was a member of the Bar
Association of New York City, and of
the New Hampshire Historical Society.
He served as representative from Fitz-
william during thirteen sessions of the
the Legislature ; his first election to that
office was at the March election in 1839.
He occupied the position of first select-
man in Fitzwilliam for ten years, and for
many years was moderator of town meet-
ings, town agent and town treasurer ;
during the Civil War he was chairman of
a committee of three for funding the
war debt of the town, which was very
efficiently and promptly accomplished.
For 72 years he was a member of the
bar, and engaged in the practice of the
law the greater portion of that time.

In i844-'45 he was actively engaged
in forwarding the projected railroad be-
tween Boston and Burlington by way of
Rutland. After aiding in obtaining
charters for the " Fitchburg " and
" Cheshire " railroads, he brought the
matter before the people of Vermont,
addressing large crowds at Bellows Falls,
Brandon, Rutland, Vergennes, Burling-
ton and other places. The Rutland and

COL. AMOS A. PARKER.

109

Burlington Railroad was soon built, and
is today the Rutland Division of the
Central Vermont System.

Colonel Parker was a man of splendid
physique, tall, remarkably erect through
life, and in all respects well proportioned.
As a public speaker he also made his
mark. In addition to Fast Day ad-
dresses, railroad, political, educational
and miscellaneous speeches, Colonel
Parker delivered five Fourth of July
orations, one in 18 13 at Falmouth in
Virginia, one in Rockingham county, one
in Vermont and two in Fitzwilliam.
One of the finest gems of its kind was
an address on " Education," delivered at
Rindge on October 17, 1843, before the
Cheshire County Common School Asso-
ciation.

In his boyhood days he was too studi-
ous and busy to engage in any of the
sports and dissipations which often un-
dermine the constitutions of the more
favored youths, and the temperate habits
he then formed greatly augmented and
preserved his constitution for work and
a long life.

At 80 he had the vigor, endurance and
strength of a man of 50 ; and at 90 that
of a man of 60. He was always re-
garded as a well-read lawyer, a safe
counselor, and when engaged in the trial
of causes, a successful advocate. He was
a good citizen and an honest man.
He was a ready writer and a good
thinker, and his success at the bar, upon
the stump, and in the halls of Legisla-
ture attested his power and influence as
a speaker and debater. His was an
active life, and he was long interested in
the cause of education and temperance.

Colonel Parker was a good Latin and
Greek scholar ; he retained his knowl-
edge of the classics to a remarkable
degree during his whole life, and quoted
Latin and Greek phrases and maxims, in

his conversations and addresses, with
great ease and fluency. He was quite
a wit, and at times enjoyed a good
joke.

A short anecdote illustrating his ready
wit was recently related to the author of
this sketch, by Hon. Albert S. Waite of
Newport. While attending the session
_of the court at Keene, between 40 and
50 years ago, the judges and lawyers
made their headquarters at "Col.
Harrington's Tavern," as it was com-
monly called in those days, and more
recently the Eagle Hotel; at the familiar
sound of the dinner bell, the presiding
judge and the lawyers from the various
towns in the county and other parts of
the state attending the term of court,
filed into the spacious dining room and
took their seats at the well-loaded table,
which was assigned by the good host to
the judge and members of the bar.
Among the prominent members of the
bar of Cheshire county at that time was
Judge Frederick Vose of Walpole, who
was invariably punctual and constant in
his attendance at court, the sessions of
which generally lasted from five to six
weeks, and he was also equally punctual
in his attendance at the dinner table.
On one occasion there were seated at
the head of the table, His Honor John
James Gilchrist, the presiding justice,
E. L. Cusheon of Charlestown, Aldis
Lovell of Alstead, A. H. Bennett of
Winchester, Col. Amos A. Parker of
Fitzwilliam and several other members
of the bar from other portions of the
state, including himself, who was seated
at the table directly opposite Colonel
Parker, who, after looking up and down
the long table for several minutes, failed
to see Judge Vose of Walpole in his ac-
customed seat. Colonel Parker, turning
to Brother Waite, ejaculated, " Inter
Nos ? " (Where is Vose ?) which ere-

COL. AMOS A. PARKER.

ated great merriment among all those
seated at the table,

Colonel Parker was married three
times, — first, to Miranda W., eldest
daughter of Rev. Daniel C. Sanders,
president of Vermont University at the
time of Mr. Parker's graduation, by
whom he had three children, two of
whom still survive, George W., who re-
sides at Halifax, Mass., and Andrew,
who resides in Brooklyn, N. Y. He
married second, Mary, daughter of
United States Marshal McClary of
Epsom, by whom he had four children,
two of whom are still living, Mrs.
Miranda S. Smith, widow of Anson B.
Smith, formerly a hardware merchant of
Winchendon, Mass., and Hon. John
McClary Parker, now engaged in trade
at Fitzwilliam, and who has served in
both branches of the New Hampshire
Legislature. H« married third, Julia E.
Smith of Glastonbury, Conn., April 9,
1879, he being at that time 88 and Miss
Smith 86 years of age.

Miss Smith had become famous some
20 years before her marriage for resist-
ing taxation without representation, or
in other words, by refusing to pay taxes
because she did not have the privilege
of voting ; and also by a translation of
the Bible from the original Hebrew and
Greek into English unaided and alone
after seven years of severe labor and
study, and publishing 1,000 copies at
her own expense.

Her fame was in no wise diminished
by her marriage to Colonel Parker at
her advanced age. It was a nine days"
wonder at the time, and more or less
noticed by the newspaper press through-
out the country, but it really proved to
be followed by seven years of happy mar-
ried life, during which time they resided
at Glastonbury, and at Hartford, Con-
necticut.

She died March 6, 1886, and soon
after Colonel Parker returned to his
native town and resided with his youngest
son, Hon. John M. Parker, as before
stated, where he received all the care
and attention necessary to make his de-
clining years pleasant and happy. He
was buried in our public cemetery, and
a substantial headstone of native granite
marks his final resting-place. At the
time of his death the following editorial
appeared in the Independent Statesman,
printed at Concord, N. H. : "Colonel
Amos A. Parker, once editor of the
Statesman, has closed his more than a
century of usefulness. Colonel Parker
has lived a life marked by conscientious
faithfulness to many a trust. As an
editor, as a lawyer, as an official, he gave
the best he had to the fulfilment of his
duties, and went down the path of a
green old age with powers unimpaired,
with faculties undiminished, to a reward
laid up by years of honesty with him-
self, his fellow-men and his God."

HISTORY AND POKTRY FROM THE LIFE OF F. B. SANBORN

OF CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS.

CHAPTER THIRD. — YOUTHFUL LOVE
AND MARRIAGE.

Up to my eighteenth year I had
lived fancy free, though very suscep-
tible to the beauty of girls, and slight-
ly attached, at school and in the
society of my companions, to this
maiden or that who had fine eyes, a
fair complexion and a social gift. To
one pair of sisters, indeed, I was
specially drawn by their loveliness
and gentle ways. Toward the younger
of the two, of my own age almost ex-
actly, I had early manifested this in-
terest when my years could not have
exceeded seven. They had come with
their cousin, who was also my cousin,
to spend the afternoon and take tea
with my two sisters ; it may have
been the first time I had noticed the
sweet beauty of Sarah C, who was
the granddaughter of the former par-
son of the parish. So strongly was I
impressed by it, that while they were
taking tea by themselves, boys not
being expected to enjoy their com-
pany, I went to my strong box, which
contained all my little stock of silver,
took from it a shining half dollar, the
largest coin I had, and deftly trans-
ferred it to the reticule of Sarah,
hanging on the back of a chair in the
" parlor chamber," all without telling
anybody what I had done. The two
girls (aged seven and ten) went home
unsuspecting what had occurred, but
in emptying the reticule that night,
the coin was found, and Sarah know-
ing nothing about it, the gift was

sent back to the house of the tea-
party, and my little scheme of endow-
ing her with my worldly goods was
discovered, to my confusion.

There had been other fancies, but
nothing serious until the year 1850,
when I was just eighteen. Nor had
I taken the burden of life very seri-
ously in other directions. I had
formed no scheme of life ; my educa-
tion had been going on as already
described, with no particular plan on
my part or that of my family. My
mother's cousin, Senator Norris, be-
ing in Congress from 1843 until his
death in 1855, it had been suggested
that he should appoint me a cadet in
the West Point military school ; but I
had no turn for a soldier's life, and
nothing was done to obtain his pat-
ronage, which my grandfather, a vet-
eran Democrat, could have secured,
perhaps. So I drifted along, working
on the farm perhaps half my time,
studying, shooting, wandering about
the pastures and woods with comrades;
and spending my evenings in lively
company, playing chess, cards, or, for
a few years in the summer, joining a
cooking club which met weekly in
the thick woods far from houses, and
got up a fine supper of chicken and
coffee, with a dessert of sponge cake ;
which one of our number, afterwards
Capt. John Sanborn Godfrey, of Gen-
eral Hooker's staff in the Civil War,
had the secret of preparing to perfec-
tion.

This entertainment had begun with
my schoolmates, William Healey and

112

FRANK B. SANBORN.

Charles Brown, and two or three stu-
dents of the Rockingham Academy,
Cavender of St. Louis, Vanderveer of
New York, and another, but was then
transferred to an unfrequented pine
wood, near the boundaries of Exeter,
Hampton and Hampton Falls, and
included two Tiltons and other school-
mates on that part of the Exeter road.
After I left home to enter college the
Exeter congressman. Oilman Mars-
ton, afterwards a general in the war,
and some others from Exeter were
admitted to the mysteries, but I never
met with them later than 1850, I
think.

A more exacting literary society
had been established about 1848 in
the upper hall of the schoolhouse
where I had been a pupil, under the
name of the "Anti-Tobacco Society,"
at the instance, I suppose, of the good
minister of the Unitarian parish. We
helddebates, and soon established a
MS. monthly journal, Star of Social
Reform, which received contributions,
supposed to be anonymous, from the
members, male or female, and these
were read at the monthly meetings.
I early became a contributor, both in
prose and verse, and in the summer
of 1849 wrote a burlesque on the
poem of " Festus," then much read
in New England, in mild ridicule of
the English author, Philip Bailey.
The following winter the editor of the
Star (now Mrs. S. H. Folsom of
Winchester, Mass.), visiting her
friend. Miss Ariana Smith Walker
at Peterborough, showed her the
"Festus" verses and some others,
which she was good enough to like,
and sent them to her dearest friend.
Miss Ednah Eittlehale of Boston, the
late Mrs. E. D. Cheney, with this
note:

March 30. 1850. I don't know that I should
have written you today if I had not wanted to
send you the enclosed. It purports to be a
newly discovered scene from " Festus," and is
written by a person who does not altogether
like the book, as you will see from the last
part, especially. I want you to read \\.first, and
then read the little note which will tell you
about the author, /think it is capital; tell me
how it strikes you. Please return it to me in
your next. A. S. W.

A few weeks later, April 26, she
added :

I send you herewith some poetry of Frank S.,
the author of the new scene from " Festus."
The little ballad, is, I think, very pretty. He
called it " Night Thoughts," but I like "The
Taper " better, — do not you? And now I will
tell you that he is a Hampton Falls boy, and
that his name is Sanborne. I will send you all
I can of his writing, and I want you to write a
criticism upon the " Festus," etc., for the Stat ,
a paper written by the j-oung people at H. Falls.
They shan't know who writes it ; but won't you
sometime send me a yort of laughing notice of
this " new Poet "? I want you to, very much.
Do you not get a pretty picture of the via id
" who her needle plies," etc.? It reminded ine
of your " Gretchen."

The ballad was the subject, after-
wards, of a commendator}' notice in
the Star by A. S. W. which pleased
the young poet, and led him to antici-
pate the arrival of the critic; who also
had some curiosity to see the youth
about whom her friend had told her
many things. When they first saw
each other in the small church at
Hampton Falls, she was sitting be-
side her friend in the pew, and I was
opposite, facing them, but only 30 feet
away, so that our eyes met. She
wrote on her folding fan, with a pin,
" I don't dare look at Frank S.; he
has a poetic face." In her next let-
ter to Ednah she said (July 22, 1850):

I have seen F. S., the young poet,— a face
like the early portrait of Raphael, only Frank's
eyes and hair are very dark. I don't care, now
I have seen him, to speak or meet with him.
[In fact two days after he called on her and was
welcome.] When we began to talk earnestly I

FRANK B. SANBORN.

113

'::^:J

Birthplace of George and Anna Walker.

forgot everything else in ray surprise and pleas-
ure. I was astonished and delighted. There
was a charm about everything he said, because
he has thought more zvlioUy for himself than
any one I ever met. ... In books, too, I
was astonished at his preferences. It seemed
strange that S/ielley should be the favorite poet
of an uncultivated, I should say, self-cultivated
boy; but so it is, and he talked of him and of
the poems as I never heard any one talk, after
his own fashion. . . . He stayed until 11,
and yet I was neither weary nor sleepy, rather
refreshed and invigorated.

The "laughing notice " of the Fes-
tus scenes, obligingly written by Miss
lyittlehale, and sent to the editor of
the Star, was this, followed by Miss
Walker's comment on the ballad:

The following notices of recent effusions we
take the liberty of quoting for the benefit of the
readers of the Star. This first,— a very brief
extract (from the London Enquirer) from a
notice of " The Supplementary Scene to Fes-
tus," which appeared in the July (1849) num-
ber of the Star; the second " Night Thoughts,"
from a source less foreign.

The New Scene oj Feslus.

The burlesque is capital ; the similes are
some of them so like " Festus " one could easi-
ly cheat another into the reality of certain pas-
sages. Who this young devotee of St. Crispin
is, we cannot divine. The lines show an admi-
rable tact at verse making; we hope to see
something which has the writer's soul in it,
too. So promising a genius should be cultivated,
not spoiled.

I have elsewhere spoken of this love-
ly vision of youth and spiritual grace
first fairly seen by me in the Hamp-
ton Falls church, July 20, 1850. She
was the daughter of James Walker of
Peterborough, a first cousin of Presi-
dent Walker of Harvard College, and
her mother, Sarah Smith, was the
favorite niece of Judge Smith of Exe-
ter. She had died in 1841, and Mr.
Walker had remarried a daughter of
Rev. Jacob Abbot of Hampton Falls.
Ariana, named for Judge Smith's

114

FRANK B. SANBORN.

daughter, was born in the Carter
house on the steep Peterborough hill-
side, overlooking the river Contoocook
from the northeast, and commanding,
as all the hills thereabout do, a noble
prospect of Monadnock. Her brother,
George Walker, afterwards bank
commissioner of Massachusetts and
consul-general of the United States
at Paris, was born five years earlier
in the same house, and the brother
and sister tripped down this hill in
early childhood, near the mansion of
their uncle, Samuel Smith, the judge's
manufacturing brother, to attend the
private school of Miss A.bbot, now
Mrs. Horatio Wood of Lowell, whose
younger sister James Walker married
in 1844. Her uncle, Rev. Dr. Abiel
Abbot, pastor at Peterborough, had
earlier in his ministry, at Coventry in
Connecticut, persuaded Jared Sparks,
the future historian, then a carpenter
in Mr. Abbot's parish, to go to the
Phillips Academy at E^xeter in 1809.
Mr. Abbot going to make a visit to
his brother, the successor of President
Langdon in the Hampton Falls pul-
pit, slung the young man's box un-
der his parson's chaise, while Sparks
himself walked all the way to ICxeter;
whither his box preceded him, to the
care of Dr. Benjamin Abbot (a cousin
of the Hampton Falls pastor), then
Principal of the famous Academy. It
was this intermarriage between the
Abbot and Walker families that led,
as above mentioned, to my first ac-
quaintance with Anna Walker. Her
stepmother had a sister, Mrs. Cram,
married in their father's old parish,
and living next door to the old house
then occupied by Mrs. Joseph San-
born, my uncle's widow, with her
two children, who were cousins of
Mrs. Cram's children. Indeed the

two houses once had belonged to
the Cram family, with only a garden
between them; the later built of the
two being more than a hundred years
old, and soon to give place to a new
house, in which many of vay inter-
views with Miss Walker were after-
wards held. But the old house, in its
large parlor, was the memorable
scene of our first interview, briefly
described above by Anna herself. In
a fuller entry in her journal she said :

F. staj'cd until 11 and yet I was neither weary
nor sleepj^, but rather refreshed and invigora-
ted. He excused himself for staying so late,
but said the time had passed rapidly. C. seemed
very much surprised that he had spoken so
freely to a stranger ; I think he himself will
wonder at it. The conversation covered so
many subjects that I could not help laughing
on looking back upon it; he might have discov-
ered the great fault of my mind, a want of
method in my thoughts, as clearly as I saw his
to be a want of hope. But talking with a new per-
son is to me like going for the first time into a
gallery of pictures. We wander from one paint-
ing to another, wishing to see all, lest some-
thing finest should escape us, and in truth see-
ing no one perfectly and appreciatingly. Only
after many visits and long familiarit3' can we
learn which are really the best, most suggestive
and most full of meaning ; and then it is before
two or three that one passes the hours. So we
wander at first from one topic of conversation to
another, until we find which are those reaching
farthest and deepest, and then it is these of
which we talk most. My interest in Frank S.
is peculiar; it is his intellectual and spiritual
nature, and not hitiiself that I feel so much
drawn to. I can't say it rightly in words, but I
never was so strongly interested in one where
the feeling was so little personal.

This was by no means my own
case. I had the strongest personal
interest in this young lady, whose
life had been so unlike my own, but
who had reached in many points
the same conclusions, literary, social
and religious, which were my own,
so far as a youth of less than nineteen
can be said to have reached conclu-
sions. We met again and again, and

FRANK' B. SANBORN.

discussed not only Shelley, but Plato
and Emerson, of whom we were both
eager readers. She had received from
her father the winter before Emer-
son's "Representative Men," just
after she had been reading Plato with
Ednah Littlehale, and she was also
familiar with several of the other
characters in that volume, — her stud-
ies in German having advanced fur-
ther than mine. Two years earlier she
had read Emerson's first book, "Na-
ture," more than once, and at the
age of 1 8 thus wrote of it to Ednah :

April I, 1848. I am glad you have read "Na-
ture." It has long been one of my books. It
lies at this moment on my little table, and sel-
dom does a day pass without my finding there
something that chimes with the day's thought.
Emerson always gives me a feeling of quiet,

simple strength. I go to him, therefore, when
I am weak and feeble, — not when I am full
of unrest and disquiet. My soul is at times
the echo of his; like the echo, however, it can
only give back a single word. I bow in quiet
joy at his grander thought; but, like him, I do
not therefore yield my own. The light of his
spirit does not dazzle my eyes so that all seems
dark elsewhere; on the contrary, the world
around me, reflecting back that radiance,
smiles in a new-born glory. I love the whole
earth more, that I know him more truly.

Of the crayon by Morse, here en-
graved, which remained in Boston
some weeks after it was finished, that
winter of 1 847-' 48, she thus wrote to
Ednah, February 6, 1848 :

George Walker is very enthusiastic about
Morse and the picture. "It is almost too fine,"
etc. From what he told me I should think it
decidedly the finest of Morse's pictures. Tell
him I could not have been more glad if the pic-

F. B. SANBORN IN COLLEGE, 1853.

FRANK B. SANBORN.

117

ture had been my own. Greenough, the sculp-
tor, says it is the finest crayon ever done in
Boston. Shall I tell you what I felt when I
read George's letter?— a deep regret that I was
not beautiful. I could wish myself lovely for
Morse's sake, for the sake of his fame; because
then the piciure would have been finer.

No one ever found this portrait
other than beautiful. When I first
saw her, two years after Alpheus
Morse had finished it, her expression
had changed from the serene, saintly
look which Morse depicted, to one of
more vivacity and gayety, which in
her periods of comparative health was
her natural expression, and which
made her even more charming than
in the earlier portrait. She had just
reached 18 when it was drawn, and it
was made for her brother, herself re-
taining only a daguerre from it.

Our second evening was that of
August I, and this is the record of it
in her journal :

Last night F. S. was here again. We had
been wishing he would come but did not expect
him. He was in a fine mood, but one or two
things I regret in the evening's talk. He had
spoken of many things earnestly, and at last
he mentioned James Richardson's proposal that
he should enter into the ministry. We all
laughed. I wanted to say something of his
future life; but I seemed to have no right. He
said "That is the last thing I should chose."
"No," said I, with decision, "preaching is not
your mission." I felt as if I must go on, but I
restrained myself and was silent. He must
have thought we ridiculed the idea of his becom-
ing a minister, because we thought him un-
equal to the work. I did not feel this so fully
then as I did after he was gone; but it hurts me
to Lave so repulsed him, for I think he wished
us to say something more — to talk with him of
himself and of his future. O golden opportu-
nity! I fear it is lost and will not come again.

We talked of many things — I more of peo-
ple than formerly. His mind is analytic, the in-
tellect predominating and governing the heart ;
feelings do not often get the mastery. He is
calm and searching, with a very keen insight
into the merits or demerits of a style. This is
characteristic of his mind. He is unsparingly
just to his own thought. He is not at all a
dreamer; or, if he is ever so, his dreams are not

enervating. He is vigorous, living, strong.
Calmness of thought is a large element of his
nature; it extends to the feelings as well as the
intellect. Yet there is fire under the ice, and I
imagine if it should be reached it would flame
forth with great power and intensity.

We talked of Plato and Herbert and Shelley,
and many others. He says it is not the thought
of "Alastor" that makes it his favorite, but the
versification. I do not think now that he is
wanting in severity. He went away after eleven.
"I have stayed even later than the other night,"
said he, "quite too late." "Oh, no, not at all,"
said I. I think he liked to come again. It
may seem vain to saj' so, but I suspect he had
seldom talked with anyone exactly as he did
with us tonight. C. is the only person here
who would care to talk with him on such sub-
jects; and her gentle modesty would not allow
her to sit deliberately down to draw any one
out as I have done with Frank. C. said she did
not know he could talk so finely. I belief that
to him it was a relief. He has a rich nature,
and yet my interest in him has little to do with
feelings, less so than I could have supposed
possible for me.

Ah, how little do we at such times
know ourselves ! The next few weeks
showed that nothing so interested her
feelings as the fortunes of this youth.

As I wrote the above, Mrs. Cram asked me
why, if I felt that F. had misunderstood what I
said of his becoming a minister, I did not write
him a no\e, and tell him what I then wished so
much to say. She urged my doing so, and at
last I wrote the following, which I showed to
her, and which she advised my sending:

NOTF.

Whtn you spoke last night of Mr. R.'s prop-
osition that you should enter the ministry,! have
thought that what I replied might and must
have given you a wrong impression. When I
said with decision that I did not think preach-
ing your mission, it was not because I feared
you would fail in that or, in anything for which
you should heartily strive; but because it seems
to me as if no one should take such a mission
upon himself unless he feels a decided call, and
is sensible of a peculiar fitness.

Your work in life seems to me more clearly
pointed out than that of most men; it comes
under that last head in " Representative Men ;"
we need you as a writer. I know how much
of struggle and even of suffering such a life
must contain, but Plato says, "When one is
attempting noble things it is surely noble also
to suffer whatever it may befall bini to suffer."

I feel that there is that within you which
cannot rightfully be hidden; and your success
seems to me sure, if you will but bend your
whole energies to this end. I wish I were wise
enough to suggest something more than the goal
to be reached; but I am sure you will have

ii8

FRANK B. SANBORN.

other and more efficient friends who will give
you the aid of experience.

Perhaps you will think I presume upon a
short acquaintance to say all this; but it is often
given to us "to foresee the destiny of another
more clearly than that other can," and it seems
to me only truth to strive "by heroic encour-
agements to hold him to his task." Will you
pardon my boldness? I give you God-speed.
Your friend,

Anna W.

The next day the journal goes on:

We rode to the Hill (the post-ofBce) and left
Frank's note with his little brother, Josey, at
school. I felt sorry I had sent it the moment it
was fairly gone, and if I could have recalled it
I certainly should. It contained little of mj'
thought, and would do harm if not received
earnestly. It is difficult to do good. I hope I
shall see and talk with F. before I go to Glou-
cester.

August 3. This evening, as I lay wearily on
the sofa, for I had been sick all day, Charles
Healey came in, and immediately afterward,
Frank. I felt not at ease, for we could say
nothing of what was in both our thoughts
often and often, I am sure. I seemed stupid,
talked, but said nothing. Frank was gay — he
is seldom that; C. said when he had gone,
"Anna, I saw your influence in all F'. said to-
night, — he was happy." I don't know what to
think. Why did he come and why has he said
nothing about my note? It requires speedy
answer.

August 6, Tuesday. I felt all day as if some-
thing was going to happtn to me, and in the
afternoon F. C. brought me a letter from
Frank. It was calm, manly, kind, sincere, ear-
nest ; not warm — apart from feeling. I felt it very
much. A note which came with it, and which
contained little in words, gave me an impres-
sion of feeling which the letter did not. A son-
net F. sent me also, which I like. He added
some marginal notes which rather made a jest
of it; but I think the sonnet was written ear-
nestly, and the notes were an afterthought
to conceal that earnestness. How deeply, how
strongly I am interested in Frank! I feel as if
1 must help him. He has hardly been out of
my thoughts an hour since I wrote the note.
And now his frankness gives a new tone to my
thought ; for I feel as if I might perhaps do
something for him.

THE SONNET.

Our life — a casket of mean outward show,
Hides countless treasures, jewels rich and rare.
Whose splendid worth, whose beauty, won-
drous fair,
Only the favored few may see and know
On whom the partial Gods in love bestow.
To ope the stubborn lid, the silver key;

And such methinks, have they bestowed on

Thee.
Or shall I say ? o'er all things base and low

Thou hast the blessed power of alchemy,
Changing their dross and baseness into gold;

And in all vulgar things on earth that be.
Awakening beauty, as the Greek of old

Wrought vase and urn of matchless sj'mmetry
From the downtrodden and unvalued mould.
August 6, 1850. F. B. S.

Wednesday, Aug. 7. I went to the Sewing
Circle on Munt Hill. I had three reasons for
going — to be with Gate, to sit under the green
trees once again, and to see Frank, who I felt
sure would be there. I had a beautiful but
wearisome afternoon. I liked to sit under the
green arches of the oaks and maples, and to
watch the play of faces, and read through them
in the souls of those around me. Cate is the
best, and most beautiful and worthj- to be
loved; and next to her I was drawn to Helen
Sanborn. She iscold and self-centered, but she
interests me. I want to know what all that
coldness covers and conceals. Frank came; he
greeted me last, and then almost distantly^
certainly coldly. He was gay and witty, and we
had a little talk together, sitting after tea in the
doorway. Miss (Nanc5') Sanborn's house* is
prettily located, but there is something reallj*
mournful in such a lonely life as hers. Heaven
save me from so vacant, so desolate a life as
that of most unmarried women!

We had a pleasant ride home, and I thought
F. might come up in the evening. If he does
not I shall probably not see him again. I hope
he will come.

August 8. He did come up last night, and we
talked very earnestly and freely together. I
think I never spoke with more openness to
any one; we forgot we were Frank and Anna,
and talked as one immortal soul to another.

The conversation began by Gate's showing
him my Analyses. I sat in a low chair at C.'s
feet, and w^atched his face while he read. It was
steady; I could not read it, and I admired his
composure, because I do not think it arose from
a want of feeling. He said, when he had fin-
ished, that he should not like to say whose the
first analysis was; it might apply in parts to
many ; and then turned to his own, and began to
talk of it; not easily, but with difficulty and re-
serve. I gave him a pencil and asked him to
mark what he thought untrue. He made three or
four marks, and explained why he did so; but
not for some time did he say that it was himself
of whom he spoke. He said I overrated him;
he was quick but confused, and he complained
of a want of method, strictness and steadiness

*The old Sanborn house near Munt Hill, in Chap-
ter 1.

FRANK B. SANBORN.

119

of purpose, in his intellectual nature. 1 thought
these rather faults of habit than of nature; few
minds left so wholly to themselves, with so
little opportunity, would have been other than
desultory.

To be overestimated, or to feel himself so, is
extremely painful to Frank, and he constantly
referred to it. "I shall not, I think, be injured
by your praises," said he atone time; "I have
a mirror always near me which shows me to
mj'self as I really am." In referring to that
part of the analysis where I spoke of his
being less self-dependent than he thought
himself, he said, "Yes, I want some superior
friend to whom I can go at all times, and who
will never fail me." Who of us does not need
such a friend? I thought of Ednah gratefully.

In talking of the ways and means of life
before him, I told him how deeply I felt my own
want of practical ability; it seemed idle to
suggest only the goal to be reached, and to
say nothing of the paths leading thereto.
"After all," said I, with real feeling. "I have
not helped you." "I am afraid," he said, "that
you suffer as I do, from a want of self-confi-
dence." Cate urged me to greater freedom, for
I was embarrassed, and I said in reply, "I wish
I were wise." "I hope it is not my wisdom
that restrains you," he said with great gentle-
ness, "a little child might lead me." The tone
of feeling touched me, I looked at him quietly,
and talked more clearly of school and college,
and all the possibilities which the future held
out to him, and the probabilities.

I told him it was the discipline he needed
most, — not so much the books he would study
as the power he would obtain over his own
thoughts, and the opportunities which such
a life would open to him. He then spoke of
himself, and said that he feared a sedentary
life would "only hasten what would come soon
enough of itself." And for the first time I
observed the hollow chest and the bright color
which indicate consumptive tendencies in him.
Health must not be sacrificed; his work in life
must not be hindered by bodily weakness; this
is an important consideration. He then spoke
of Mr. R.'s proposition, and, finally, all solved
itself in the question, " What is really my work
in life?"

" I think," said I in reply, " that there might
be a person wise enough to decide for you."
"I think so, too," said he quickly, "and I
wish that person would decide," — " or those
persons," he added, after a moment. I thought
it possible he might mean Cate or myself by
"that person"; but I did not feel capable of
choosing for him, even if he had thought of me
when he spoke, — and of that I greatly doubt.
So no reply was made, — but the final result
seemed to be, that if his health would allow,

private lessons or school would be the best
thing open to him.

In looking again at the Analysis,* — I told him
that it would not bear severe intellectual crit
icism; it must necessarily have many and great
faults. He said, "It is almost perfect, except
that you stood at too high a point of view,
so that some defects were concealed," — and
seemed surprised that he should have laid him-
self open so far in so short a time. But " I see
that I must have done so, unless you have
much clearer eyes than most people." "Not
tliHt," said I, "but I have a habit of studying
souls; persons are more to me than to most.
I read in them as you read in books. I have
seen in you tonight some new traits of charac
ter." He then asked me to add them to the
analysis; but I would not promise to do so.
" I hope," he said, " that you are not going to
conceal anything. Talk to me as if I were a
chair or a table; I can bear any truth, — do not
fear to wound me." " I am not afraid to be
severe with you," said I.

The conversation turned upon many things
which I cannot write here, — upon pride, upon
faith in a future life, etc. It was not till after
midnight that he said he must go; and then it
was evidently only because he felt he ought;
the conversation held him. " When," heasked,
"shall you be in Hampton Falls again?"
" Perhaps in one year, perhaps not for several,"
said I. "Then it is doubtful when we shall
see one another again. I shall not be likely to
meet you anywhere else." "Yes," said I,
" when I see you next, your destiny will prob
ably be decided." "I will promise you," he
said, "that my choice shall be made as quicklj-
as possible."

I told him I hoped I should hear of it when
he did so. He said he might not be in Hamp-
ton Falls at that time, and seemed, I half
thought, to wish me to ask him to tell me him-
self of his decision; but I hesitated to do so.
and so said nothing. "And so," he said again,
as he bade me good-by, " it is uncertain
whether we shall see each other again for

* The close of this is as follows : " Has many
noble aspirations yet unsatisfied.' Still seeking,
seeking, groping in the dark. He wants a definite
end for which to strive heailily; then his success
would be SURE. Much executive power, executes
better than he plans.

" Loves the beautiful in all things. He has much
originality; his thoughts and tastes are peculiarly
hisown. Is impatientof wrong, and almost equally
so oi inability. Is gentle in spite of a certain cold-
ness about him;" has strong passions in spite of
his general calmness of intellect and affection.
A nature not likely to find rest, struggle is its
native element; wants a steady &\xa^, must work,
standing still is impossible ; but he must have a
great motive for which to strive.

Aug. sift, 1850.

" Many contradictions in this analysis, but not
more than there are in the character itself."

I20

FRANK B. SANBORN.

years. Well, — I shall always remember that
there is one person in the world who thinks
more highly of me than I do of myself." We
shook hands, and he went awaj-.

Intellectually, or by a certain fitness between
us, I seemed to draw near to him, and I think
he was sorry that our acquaintance should have
been so transient, and should have terminated
so suddenly. It seems strange to think of
now, and not quite real to me; but I feel it has
been of great service to me, however little
I have done to help him. I have never seen
any one like Frank. It is good to have a new-
interest in life, and in him I shall always feel
strongly interested. I believe the journal of
this evening is very poor; it gives not the least
idea of what I consider as almost the most sin-
gular conversation in my life, — and the end of
a strange experience.

Ah, no ! it was the beginning of
that experience of which Dante wrote
in his Vita Nuova, — " Behold a Spirit
Cometh mightier than thou, who shall
rule over thee." This gentle maiden
had not been averse to Love, but now
he came in his full armor. The tell-
tale journal goes on:

When he was gone I felt so full of regret that
I had not spoken more wisely to him that I
covered my face with my hands and let the
warm tears flow fast, — but it was only for a
moment. I was excited as I seldom am; felt
strong and free, and as I looked out of the
window had an inclination to throw myself
down on the cool grass below. The girls would
not let me talk; they went to their rooms, —
but I lay waking all the night through. How
I wished for some divining power to give me
a knowledge of Frank's thoughts ! Had I
helped him ? was this meeting of ours to have
any influence upon his life? and if so, would it
work for good or evil ? was this the beginning
or the end of some new life? Lastly, how had
he thought of me? finelj' and highly, or had I
seemed poor and bold ? Upon his thought of
rae all the power of this evening to help him
must depend; and I felt doubtful what it had
been. Are we really to see each other no
more ? and is this to end our acquaintance ?
Have I been forbearing enough ? Should I not
have waited to be sought, and not have gone
out to meet him? But my motive was pure
and disinterested; does he know that? Of
course he could not seek me. There certainly
was feeling in him tonight, — I saw it in his face.
It is true then that he loves X. ? These and a
thousand other questions I went on asking.

while the night wore away. I rose ill and fee-
ble, and all day have suffered much; though
not more than I expected last night. I have
written F. a note, the principal object of which
is to ask him to tell me himself when his deci-
sion is made as to his future life. I shall send
it with the Analysis. Mrs. C. has seen and
approved of it, and I trust to her judgment.
There is much more feeling in it than in his
letter; but it seemed to me not to touch upon
sentiment. Beside, F. is not vain, — the strange
boy !

There was no occasion to doubt
how I had received all this inspira-
tion and encouragement to a more
active life. It had been taken exactly
as it was meant, and no thought un-
worthy of the most ideal friendship
occurred to me. But the arrow of
Love had wounded me also, and I
was not so unconscious of it as Anna
was. We continued to correspond,
and I went on my projected trip to
the White Mountains early in Sep-
tember, with my head and heart both
enlisted in her service. In one of my
letters I sent her these lines, which,
after the avowal of my love in Novem-
ber, I completed to a sonnet, by the
lines of the final couplet:

SONNET II.

As calmest waters mirror Heaven the best.
So best befit remembrances of Thee
Calm, holy hours, from earthly passion free,
Sweet twilight musing, — Sabbaths in the breast:
No stooping thought, nor any groveling care
The sacred whiteness of that place shall stain.
Where, far from heartless joys and rites pro-
fane.
Memory has reared to Thee an altar fair;

Yet frequent visitors shall kiss the shrine,
And ever keep its vestal lamp alight, —
All noble thoughts, all dreams divinely bright.
That waken or delight this soul of mine.

SoL,ove, meek pilgrim ! his young vows did pa j'.
With glowing eyes that must his lips gainsay.

In the meanwhile she had gone to
spend the rest of August with her
dear Ednah at Gloucester by the sea-
side, and from there, two weeks after

FRANK B. SANBORN.

121

this parting at Hampton Falls, she
wrote to her friend Cate what I may-
call

ADVICE TO A YOUNG STUDENT.
(twenty to eighteen.)

Gloucester, August 22nd, 1850.

. . . And now, dear, — I want to talk to you
about Frank, — about whose future I have had
much anxious thought. There seem to me to
be many objections to both the plans we men-
tioned in that evening's conversation, which were
not as clear to me then as now, — I mean the go-
ing to college or the studying with Mr. Richard-
son.* Amid the sedentary habits of Cambridge
I really fear for Frank's health, — so many have
I seen sink under them who were more vigorous
than he; and so often have I mourned over
earthly promise lost, — ruthlessly thrown away, —
amid influences like those, where everything
was sacrificed to the mtellect. With all the ex-
ternal struggles which Frank would be forced to
undergo in addition to these, I feel as if it were
hardly possible for him to go through a course
at Cambridge without impaired health, — and, as
a necessary consequence, inevitable, diminished
powers ; for let no one dream that he can break
otie of God's laws without the wkoie being suffer-
ing therefrom. Frank's health tntisthe. preserved;
his work in life tniist not be hindered or marred
by bodily weakness. He owes it to the good
God who has given so much to him not to "lay
waste his powers," — that he may remain here
with us, and help us to live, as long as he can.
Is it not so, darling }

With regard to Mr. Richardson, even if that
should be open to Frank, I doubt if it would
really hQ for the best. James Richardson's faults
of mind are so exactly those which F. complains
of in himself, that I fear he would not obtain
from him that discipline which he most needs.
There is not enough rd-rt/z/j/ about J. R. to satisfy
the wants of a true and strong nature; not that
I fear cotitagion, for Frank has more power of
self-preservation than any person I ever met,
and he might as well cease to be, as cease to be
true: but his teacher should be a man of strict
and accurate mind, with an element even of
intellectual severity in it, — with a soul open to

*Rev. James Richardson, a classmate of Thoreau
at Harvard, was then settled at Haverhill, Mass.,
and, preaching- at Hampton Falls the preceding
April had met F. B. S. and urged him to go to col-
lege,— promising to aid him, if ueedful. Nothing
had come of this, or was likely to. Prof. J. G. Hoyt
was the teacher of Greek and mathematics at Exe-
ter Academy,— an active anti-slavery man also.

enthusiasm but not possessed hy \i, — and ready
and willing to impart its wealth to others. Such
a man Mr. K. is not, and I do not say this from
my own knowledge, merely, but from the better
knowledge of those who have known him long
and intimately.

And now, after all this, dear, I want to make
a new suggestion to Frank,— which is that in-
stead of either of these things he should remain
at Hampton Falls, and take private lessons of
Mr. Hoyt at Exeter, during this winter at least.
Going into Exeter once or twice a week would
be easy for him, and all that would be needful
in his case. And from all I hear of Mr. Hoyt
he is admirably fitted to be Frank's guide. Ed-
nah, who knows him, says he is just the person,
she should think, to do F. good; I only judge of
him through others. If I were Frank I should
go to Mr. H. and tell him just how it was with
me, — that it was the discipline of education that
I wanted, and not to be fitted for any particular
profession ; and I should ask his advice as to
the studies best to pursue. If Frank would do
this, I do not fear for the result; if I am not
mistaken in my opinion of Mr. H. at the end of
the winter he would no longer stand in need of
that friend who is wise enough to choose for him
his future course in life.

Does not this seem to you the best and most
possible present course for Frank } It does
seem so to me; and I have thought of this with
far more anxiety and effort than I have bestowed
even upon 7ny own winter, and all that must de-
pend thereon. Can I say more ? or will you
understand fully that this is tny best judgment, —
which can only pass for what it is worth .? though
I would it were of a thousand times more value
than it is. . . . After all, this can only be a
suggestion, — for it is made without a full knowl-
edge of facts, and there may be many objections
known to Frank, of which I am wholly ignorant.
I would only offer it as all that I have to give.

Frank's course in life, as it lies clearly in my
thought, seems to be this : To devote the next
four or five years to as severe study (and I do not
mean by study mere getting of lessons) as a
strict obedience to the laws of health will allow;
to take for this time intellectual discipline as the
principal, though not the exclusive end and aim
of life, — and for this purpose to make use of all
and the best means in his power. At the end of
those years he may work with his hands at any-
thing he pleases; there is no labor which a
noble soul cannot dignify. He shall make shoes
or be a farmer, or whatever else he finds easiest,
— if he will give us his best thoughts through
pen and paper, — if he does also his appointed

122

FRANK B. SANBORN.

spiritual and intellectual work. He shall even
settle clown quietly in H. F. if so his choice lead
him (for place will be little to him when he has
obtained full possession of himself), — so that he
do but let his light so shine before men that they
may see his good works and give thanks to the
Father therefor. I would not condenm him to
the hard struggles of the merely literary man,
even if his physical strength would allow ; for in
this money-loving Yankee land want and suffer-
ing are the sure accompaniments of such a life;
but I ivould have him fitted to use to ihe fiiH
those powers of mind which God has given him
for the benefit of others; and I would have this
work of a writer the highest end and aim of life,
— although other things may be the needful and
even beautiful accessories.

And now I wish you to s/toiu this part of my
letter to Frank; and I should hke him to con-
sider it without any reference to its being my
opinion (for I think it would have not viore but
less weight, perhaps, on that account), but sim-
ply as a suggestion worthy of thought, while he
is making his decision with regard to his future
life, and the immediate steps to be taken therein.
" If I were to proffer an earnest prayer to the
gods for the greatest of earthly privileges," says
Mr. Alcott in his Journal, " it should be for a
severely candid friend." That, at least, I am and
have been to Frank; and even should he think
me inclined to force and intrude my opinions
upon him, I will not selfishly shrink from doing
what I think right, because I may thereby suffer
the loss of his good opinion. I am very anxious
that Frank should now and quickly have some
intellectual guide and friend ; and such, I hope,
Mr. H. might become to him. Hitherto he has
stood alone, for he is strong and cheerfiil, — but
now he wants a helping hand, though it do but
touch him gently, so that he may feel himself a
link in the great chain that binds humanity to-
gether. For this he appears to me not yet to
have felt quite clearly. He himself says " A
little child might lead me ", — but he cannot be
led, — only guided, — and even that must be by
his superior.

I incline to think he has never learned much
from any one soul ; for his life has been rather
in thoughts than persons; but all things, ani-
mate and inanimate, have been his unconscious
teachers; and should I seem to flatter if I said
that, like his own Pilgrim, he has in him " some-
thing of the universality of Nature herself ? "
I think I do but use the expression with his own
meaning. I have spoken to you dear, often, of
the suffering of Frank's probable life, — but not
from any feeble wish to hold him from it. He

must go upward by the " steep but terrible way "
— by VnQ precipice — and not by the zvinding path,
— and I say God speed.

There is one other person in Exeter who would
take Frank as a pupil, I have no doubt, — and
that is Mr. Hitchcock.* In belles lettres he is
far superior to Mr. Hoyt, and indeed to most
men, — and I think he might gratify Frank's
tastes more fully ; but I doubt if he has so strict
and accurate a mind as Mr. Hoyt, or would
prove so good a guide for F. I should like him
to be Frank'sy;7>«(/, and not his teacher.

I followed this very wise counsel,
took lessons in Greek of Mr. Hoyt
for a year, and then entered Phillips
Exeter Academy for seven months,
and from that entered at Harvard a
year in advance, — having read much
lyatin before going to Exeter, The
arrangement had the incidental ad-
vantage, not foreseen by either of us,
that I could receive my letters and
parcels from Anna, and send my own
without attracting too much notice
from friends and relatives, — who were
generally excluded from knowledge
of the correspondence.

I have sometimes thought that a
young man of less vanity than F. B. S.
might be excused for hoping that a
lady, who evidently took so deep an
interest in his character and future
career, had at least a slight personal
reason for so doing. But that would
have been unjust to this rare person-
age, who certainly was the most un-
selfish, altruistic and just of all women.
The disclosure of love was truly as
great a surprise to her three months
after this as anything could have
been ; but that it was not unwelcome
the event proved.

* Rev. Ro.swell Hitchcock was then pleaching' at
the old church in Kxeter, but afterwards became
the head of the Calviuistic linion Theological Sem-
inary at New York. Anna's judgment of him was
very just; what her observation had been I know
not; but once taking tea with him would have
given her this perception, so remarkable was her
insight.

FRANK B. SANBORN.

123

Soon after my return from the
White Mountains I made the arrange-
ment with Prof. J. G. Hoyt of the
Exeter Academy, by which I was to
recite to him in Greek for a year be-
fore entering regularly as a student in
Exeter.

My visits to his study were weekly,
and this was the beginning of a friend-
ship with a noble man, which contin-
ued so long as he lived. Years
afterward he wished me to take a po-
sition with him in the Washington
University at St. Louis ; as the late

at Hampton Falls, she wrote me a
letter early in November, asking my
confidence in the matter. To con-
vince her what the truth was, I con-
fessed my ardent love for her. She
received the avowal as it was meant,
but in a spirit of self-denial, she de-
ferred the acceptance for a time. The
journal, as formerly, received her con-
fession :

I opened the note (November "21, 1850) and
read the first two or three lines, and covered my
face with my hands. It seemed impossible to
believe in the reality of what I saw. That

:T^

Exeter Street in I 850.

Amos Eawrence had offered me, a few
years earlier, the head mastership of
the Eawrence Academy in Kansas,
which has become the State Univer-
sity. For good reasons, I declined
both offers.

Miss Eittlehale, whom I first met at
Exeter in the spring of 1852, was in
the autumn of 1850 seriously ill for a
long time at her father's house, 44
Bowdoin street, Boston ; and there
Miss Walker visited her in October
and November of that year. Misap-
prehending some circumstances in my
relations with her particular friends

Frank could love tiie, — weak, feeble, unworthy
as I am, — I had never even dreamed. When I
could read the little note, it was so clear, so like
Frank, that I could only thank God that he loved
me. Had he been near me then, — could not
but have, told him that I loved him. I, the
lonely, felt myself no more alone ; and life
looked fair to me in this new radiance.

So early and so bold an avowal fixed
the fate of both ; they could never
afterward be other than lovers, how-
ever much the wisdom of the world
pleaded against a relation closer than
friendship. But the world must not at
first know the footing upon which they
stood ; even the father and brother

124

FRANK B. SANBORN.

must imagine it a close friendship,
such as her expansive nature was
so apt to form, and so faithful to
maintain. One family in Hampton
Falls and one friend in Boston. Miss
lyittlehale, were to be cognizant of
the truth ; and it was not clear, for
years, to the self - sacrificing good

ment of marriage, to be fulfilled
when my college course should be
ended, and my position in the world
established. The announcement was
made in i<S53, following a recurrence
of the mysterious illness from which
she had suffered more or less since
1846, and of which she died in 1854.

'>*^

^^^^^SpRfv •' .''-

fT. .^

- -1

George Walker in Pans, 1886.

sense of the maiden, what her ulti-
mate answer to the world might
be. Hence misunderstandings and
remonstrances from those who saw
more clearly than the young lovers
could, how many outward obstacles
opposed themselves to this union of
hearts. But the union remained un-
broken, and could at last be pro-
claimed to the world as an engage-

In the intervening four years since
our first meeting, great happiness had
been ours, and also much suffering,
from the uncertainties of life and the
divided allegiance which she owed to
her family and to her lover. Finally
this source of unhappiness was re-
moved, and it was seen by all that her
choice was to be accepted, whatever
the results might be. Her brother

FRANK B. SANBORN.

125

George was her confidant after a
little. His relation to his sister after
the death of their mother, and in the
feeble health and engrossing occupa-
tions of their father, was peculiarly
admirable. When she found herself
more closely bound to another, this
new tie was not allowed to weaken
the fraternal affection. He adopted
the youth who had so unexpectedly
become dear, as a younger brother ;
and his delicate generosity in circum-
stances w'hich often produce estrange-
ment was never forgotten. In pub-
lic life he was the same consider-
ate and high-minded gentleman ; not
regardless of the advantages which
social position and moderate wealth
give, but ever ready to share his
blessings, instead of engrossing all
within reach to himself and his circle.
Without the commanding talents or
decisive character which make men
illustrious, and secure unchanging
fortune, he had, as Chauning said of
Henry Thoreau, "what is better, —
the old Roman belief that there is
more in this life than applause and
the best seat at the dinner table, —
to have moments to spare to thought
and imagination, and to those who
need you."

Yet this affectionate brother seemed
at first to stand like a lion in the path
that was to bring two lovers together.
A month after the declaration, Anna
wrote to Ednah lyittlehale, her dear-
est friend :

And yet, my Ednah. even you are not dearer
to me than Frank is. I cannot bear to tell
George of all this until F. has achieved for him-
self so much that it will not seem mere madness
to George. I think I cannot speak of this to
him until this is so. I cannot expose F. more
than myself to the pain that would follow ; and
yet you say it would not be right to keep this a
secret, — and I could not ask a longer waiting of

Frank; how shall it be with us? Will you help
me as much as human love can aid, and tell me
what you think of all this ? I, your child, ask it
of you as I would have done of my mother, were
she living and near me; will you refuse me?
" Will F. be able to like you "? Yes, yes, yes, —
as much as I do; he would love you, — you
would suit ; only you must see each other first
\nuler favorable circumstances, — not in Town,
not ceremoniously. I send you inclosed F.'s
letters: I wish you to return them ^?/ <7//(V, and
write to me of them some time, frankly, — just
what you feel, — this, dearest, at your leisure.
. . . Believe me that I do not muse and
dream; the only time when I am ever guilty of
this is in the very early morning, — when I have
waked sometimes from dreams of F., and, half
waking, half sleeping, have fancied what we
should say to one another when we met.

And to show that I was no better in
that respect, she enclosed to Ednah
my last sonnet :

SONNET III.

Being absent yet thou art not wholly gone,

For thou hast stamped thine image on the
world ;
It shines before me in the blushing dawn.

And sunset clouds about its grace are curled ;
And thou hast burthened every summer breeze

With the remembered music of thy voice,
Sweeter than linnet's song in garden trees,

And making wearisome all other joys.
Sleep vainly strives to bar thee from his hall, —

Thou win'st light entrance in a dream's dis-
guise,
And there with gentlest sway thou rulest all

His gliding visions and quick fantasies ;
The busy day is thine; the quiet night

Sleeps in thy radiance, as the skies in light.

"These I thought you would like,"
she adds at the foot ; " tell me if you
do." The topic was never far from
her mind, wherever she might be.
At Westford, visiting her stepmoth-
er's sister, the aunt of her Hampton
Falls confidante, she wrote to Ednah
(Jan. 20, 1851) :

One thing Cate tells me, that I am very glad
of. She says that last summer Frank gave all
the letters he had had from me to his sister
Sarah ; and asked her to read them, and tell him.

126

FRANK B. SANBORN.

if there was any peculiar feeling in them ? She
did so, and said to him that she did not think
there was. Then he told her the way he was
going, — that he felt he had no power to resist, —
that he saw himself daily passing into deeper
waters ; that every day he loved me more and
more, and could not go back a single step. And
he asked her to read the letters again, with refer-
ence to his feeling for me, and tell him what she
thought of them. She gave them back to him,
and only said, "Frank, you must watch over your-
self unceasingly." It is a help to me that Sarah
knows of this. I can be truer with frank judg-
ing of actions and words through her. . . .
It is possible that I may not go to H. Falls at
all next summer; and it is possible that I may
spend some weeks there.

This last she did. Among the
verses of the first year were these,
which she also copied atid sent to
Kdnah ; indicating another mood of
her young admirer :

SONNET IV.

One with sad, wrinkled brow said unto me :
" Why will thou strive, since Struggle is so

vain ?
Thou dost but fret and chafe thee with thy
chain, —
Thou canst not break it. No, — still waits for

thee
The common sorrow of mortality, —
Restless to live, unsatisfied to die.
Pining for freedom, and yet never free."

" Yet will I never weep," calm answered I,
" 15ut wreathe these heavy fetters round with
flowers;
And through my grated window from the sky
Catch cheering glimpses of the heaven's great
eye.
To shorten or to gladden my dull hours."

And lo ! the prison walls bound me no more ;
One breath of Hope has opened wide the
door.

Our correspondence was incessant,
and the Exeter post-office gave the
opportunity to mail and receive letters
without exciting gossip. Something
like valentines passed in February,
and on the 24th she wrote to Ednah :

May I talk to you of F. .-■ I find him mingling
more and more in my life; find it daily more

difticult to turn my thoughts from him. I
believe he is dearer to me now than ever before.
I hear often from him ; he writes two letters to
my one, generally; is he not good? I said to
to C, " I did not suppose Frank's pride would let
him do that." "Ah," said she, " his pride is great,
but his love is greater, and has quite overcome
it." She has seen all the letters. F. thinks it
not right to send them through her otherwise,
and it is through him that it has been so. I told
her I did nor dare to speak to him as warmly as
I felt; that by great effort I had compelled my-
self to answer quietly, when he had lavished love
upon me. This is to show you that I am truer
than I feared. . . His winter seems to be
much to him ; he writes fully of his life out-
wardly as well as inwardly. I can't well realize
that the Frank who cuts wood all day in the
pine woods " where the birds are not afraid to
come, and where the crows fly so near that one
can hear their wings creak and rustle as they
hurry along ; and the sun shines through the
trees, and over their tops at noon," is the same
person who sits at night studying Greek, or talk-
ing with me of Schiller and Emerson, Shelley
and Plato ; doesn't it seem strange to you, too .'
(March 19, 1851.) If it is finally decided that I
do not go to H. Falls next summer, as seems
likely now, I see no other way but for F. to come
here in June. The excuse must be a pilgrimage
to Monadnock, — not very difficult to see through,
but sufficient to make no explanations necessary.
I hate equivocation, but I am forced to it ; and
if it is possible for F. to come, it would be
possible for me to receive him. There is another
way which may be open to me. I might go to
H. F. and stay two or three weeks, spending
only a fortnight with you at the beach. If any-
thing should happen to prevent my being with
your family, or if you were in Dublin, I should
think this the best plan for me, apart from
any thoughts of F. But if I went to H. Falls,
I know busy tongues would say it was for F.'s
sake, and report would occupy itself about
us both. Should I hesitate for that ? What do
you say ?

There could be but one issue to all
this ; the heart governs in such mat-
ters, and I knew very early that her
heart was mine. Nevertheless, there
was the usual alternation of hope and
fear, of jealousies and misunderstand-
ings, out of which we always emerged
with increased affection. I have

FRANK B. SANBORN.

127

never heard of a love more roman-
tic and unselfish ; no permanent
thought of ways and means, of foes
or friends, came between us. I had
been gifted with the power of winning
friends without eflfort, — a gift that in
her was carried to its highest point.
She was beloved wherever she was
seen, and had no enemy but her own
self-accusing tenderness. Her life

had inspired. Kmerson's " Hernii-
one " pictured the process :

I am of a lineage

That each for each doth fast engage;
In old Bassora's walls I seemed
Hermit vowed to books and gloom, —
111 bested for gay bridegroom.
I was by thy touch redeemed ;
When thy meteor glances came,
We talked at large of worldly fate.
And drew truly every tract.

Peterborough in 1854.

had been such as to arouse compas-
sion for one so endowed, and so fet-
tered by illness ; but that very afflic-
tion had chastened her to a saintliness
that was charmingly mingled with
coquetry. "I love to be praised,"
she said ; "I love to be loved " ; and
few were ever more beloved. By
Heaven's direction her favor lighted
on me ; and, as usual, she exagger-
ated the qualities in me that herself

It was so from the beginning
with her. At her first visit to my
town, years before I saw her, she
wrote to a Boston friend:

I reached Hampton Falls safely and found
my friend Gate just tlie same — dear good girl!
as ever, and professing herself very glad to see
me. Here have I been, therefore, during the
last week, living in true farmer-like style, with
but two or three neighbors, and no village
within three miles. The situation is a pleasant
one. There is a pretty autumn landscape seen

128

FRANK B. SANBORN.

£?3i.*ti

The " Little Wood Opposite."

from the window at my side, whose gentle
beauty does me good. There is much of bless-
ing in Nature's silent sympathy. At night, toe
we have a wide view of the glori'ous stars, which
seem to have been peculiarly beautiful these last
two evenings. I have thought of you all as I
looked for my favorite constellations. Dear,
you showed me the Scorpion, — you, Corny, Cas-
siopeia, and Ednah the Pleiades. All these were
visible last night, and I am glad I can never
look upon them without thoughts of you; is it
not a pleasant association. Here too (as every-
where else), have I met much kindly sympathy.
Strangers greet me like a long expected friend;
rough, old farmers speak with a softened tone
to the invalid stranger; and though the
grasp of their hand be somewhat rough, it is full
of heart-warmth, and, therefore very pleasant
to me. One evening I had a treat which I had
not anticipated here, — really good music. A
pretty Mrs. Tilton* sang like a woodland bird,
and with Cate's sweet low voice for a second, it
was beautiful. I love music dearly, 2^\\Agood voices

*This was Su.san Jordan from Boston, who had
been living at the ."-ame farmhouse (now gone),
one of the oldest in the township, but was now mar-
ried to a neighbor-farmer; she was a protcgt-e of
the late Dr. Henry Bowditch. and died in this ham-
let, halfway from Kxeter to Hampton Falls village.

are sweeter without an instrument than with it;
so I did not miss the piano at all.

This was written in the tame and
lovely scenery of Hampton Falls, a
few miles from the seashore, in which
this lover of nature always delighted,
and which she needed to visit every
summer. Her own native region of
swift streams and mountains she once
described thus:

Yesterday I walked out for the first time for
a long season. (February 24, 1851.) I went on
the snovvcrust into the grove by the river, part
way over the steep hill; and rested on a great
rock which juts out over a high bank, and from
which I looked down into the water just below
me. Great twisted pines grow out of this bank,
huge old sons of the forest; and thro' their
thick branches I could see the gleaming of the
first fall, which was close to me. The river is
beautiful now, very full and swift; not a brook,
as it is in the summer, but a rapid, rushing
river. The sunshine coming into where I was
sitting, through the pines overhead, made a
kind of checquered light on the snow, and bright-
ened into rainbow colors the icicles which fell

FRANK D. SANBORN.

129

from the trees yesterday and lay still on the
crust. Add to this a perfect stillness of the win-
ter woods, broken only by the noise of the
water; and you will have the best of my Sun-
day. So much, darling, for the outward world.
Our French progresses pretty well. Mr. Krone
is my principal amusement; oh, that man! he is
too funny for anything, as Mrs. Thompson
would say. I have read the life of Dr. Chal-
mers, which contains much that you would en-
joy. I think, however, it is too long, a com-
mon fault with Memoirs. He was a fiery spirit.
T am reading Agassiz too.

It was this house, in Grove Street,
Peterborough, with its "little wood
opposite" upon which her windows
looked out, which is associated with
her in my memory, and that of her
surviving sister and her friends, —
now alas! but few, out of the many
who rejoiced in her love. The engrav-
ing shows it much as it then was,—
one of two houses built b)^ McKean,
a skilful carpenter, about 1844, and

both now owned by the Livingston
family. But when we visited the
Walkers there, it had a green bank
sloping down to the river, unobstruct-
ed by the railway and its apparatus;
across the amber water was the flower-
encircled cottage of Miss Putnam, the
"Lady Bountiful" of thevillage then,
who gave Putnam Park to the public,
and preserved the fine trees on her
terraced river bank. On the oppo-
site side from this west front was the
garden, — small but neatly kept, and
blooming in the season with Anna's
favorite roses; while the pine trees
overhung the narrow street, and
waved a sober welcome.

This fac-simile of one of her small
pages to Edna shows how she passed
from one topic to another, in her let-
ters; and how uncertain was her spell-
ing and punctuation. In our four

Residence oi Anna Walker. Gro>/e Street.

Ravine and Caicade, PtterDorough.

Oi^ty^-

^^<^ /ri^^

z:^/ i-^^x-i-^

FRANK B. SANBORN.

131

years' correspondence she never quite
mastered the difficult spelling of Tues-
day, — indeed, her education had been
interrupted by frequent illness, and
was desultory, though remarkable
for the many fields into which it
led her, in five languages, — English,
Italian, French, German and Latin.
But in the reading of human life and
character she was unsurpassed, and
that, as she told me, was her chief
study. To quote again from "Her-

tact with graces like hers, native
and untaught, but lacking in nothing
of the perfection of good breeding. In
no company, high or low, was she ever
out of place. She was the delight of
every circle in which she moved; and
would have been, had her range of
experience been world-wide. Her
praise and her blame were equally
useful and courteous; the impatience
of which she complained in herself,
and which had been a fault of her

The "Little Lake Near By."

mione" (for Emerson was our daily

library) :

Once I dwelt apart;

Now I live with all;

As shepherd's lamp, on far hillside,

Seems, by the traveler espied,

A door into the mountain's heart, —

So didst thou quarry and unlock

Highways for me through the rock.

To love this daughter of rural New
Hampshire w^as more than "a liberal
education," as Sir Richard Steele said
of Lady Elizabeth Hastings; nothing,
as mere intellectual training, was more
stimulating and elevating than con-

wayward childhood, was now trained
to a fascinating caprice, which made
her ever a surprise to her friends. In
one of my visits, when she thought
she was withdrawing herself into the
cool grotto of friendship (which she
kept saying was what she wished),
suddenly she became as attractive as
any of the Sirens, and I said to her,
"Anna, how little I expected this; I
did not even hope for it ; what has
brought you into this dear mood? I
never find you twice the .same ; when
I think I have become sure of you,

132

FRANK B. SANBORN.

and accustomed to some phase of you,
— thinking it to be you^ — suddenly
you seem to me wholly other than
I thought, and I feel as if I had never
known you." Amid all these chang-
ing moods, she never failed to be what
the French quaintl}'' term attachaiite ;
and it was of her own sweet will that
she was so. Never, in a long life, —
now half a century since her death, —
have I found another so truly a woman.

Meantime my actual education at
school and college went on ; though I
was often called away by the phases
of her illness, which, like everything
about her, was strange and unexpect-
ed. From the depths of what seemed
a mortal illness, and which no physi-
cian thoroughly understood, she would
rally to a hopeful prospect of full recov-
ery. But at last the forces of nature
and her will were exhausted; she
gradually passed through the Valley
of the Shadow of Death, and perished
in my arms, August 31, 1854. We
had been married eight days before,
at her wish, and in her father's Peter-
borough house, where I had attended
all the changes of her last summer on
earth, and done all that true love
could do to make the pathway easier.

It w^as long before I could return
to my college studies; but she had for-
seen and directed all that, and even
provided in her will that I should study

in Germany. Yet the pressure of the
conflict between Freedom and Slavery
in Kansas, after I had graduated at
Harvard in July, 1855, kept me in
America, and brought me into relations
with one as remarkable among men, as
she I had loved was among women —
John Brown, of Kansas and Virginia.
Of him and the events of his last three
years my next chapter will treat.

I have given much space to this
four years' episode in my career,
because I write for readers in New
Hampshire. This romance of our
lives was wholly of New Hampshire ;
Boston was only an occasional scene
for its development, when we met
there at the houses of her friends or
mine. Nearly all of them are now dead,
— Mrs. Cheney, one of the last to pass
away, after a long life of public and
private usefulness.

I have often said of my Ariana, —
what Ivandor so modestly sung of his
lanthe, — Jane Swift, — in that verse
addressed to the River Swift:

Thou mindest me of her whose radiant morn
Lighted my path to love; she bore thy name;

She whofii HO grace was tardy to adorn,

W/iotn one lo7v 7'oice pleased tiiore than louder
fame.

Or that perfect distich in honor of the
same lantlie:

Vita brevi fugitura! prior fugitura veniistas)
Hoc saltern exiguo tempore diiret amor.

\'ro be contiiiHC(1.\

EDITORIAL NOTES.

SOME LESSONS FROM THE r>El{LIX, X. IL.

TWO VIEWS OF THE SAME.

LIRE.

This fire occasioned a financial loss of $160,000.00 ; it started in the Opera
Block and consumed a number of other buildings, including two hotels.
The Opera Block (shown in above cut) was a frame building covered with
galvanized iron. The top floor was used by tenants who roomed there.
Many of these tenants were compelled to jump from the fourth story win-

.ZS-I^TEI^

134

EDITORIAL.

dows in order to get out at all : one was killed and several were injured in
so doing. There Was no Fire Escape on the Building.

The Opera House had seats for 1,500, — or 400 more than White's Opera
House in Concord. The alarm was sounded at 9.15 p. ni. Supposing that
there had been a show in the Opera House that night, what do you think
would have been the fatality in that case? It's simply appalling to think
of. There are still left a plenty' of such buildings in this state, and there
ought to be stringent ordinances to prevent the public use of such fire traps.
It's nothing but luck that the loss of life was not 100, or more.

Road Improvement in

Some of Our Smaller Towns.

Comparatively few people know of
the work that has been done by some
of the smaller towns in the state in way
of building good roads and improving
their village streets. Within a few
years the town of Littleton had their main
street all rebuilt. The street was wid-
ened and straightened. New curbing
was set where necessary, and between
the curbing (which forms the edge of
the sidewalk), the whole roadway was
concreted with tar and gravel concrete.
Now from the railroad depot, across the
river, over a magnificent steel bridge,
and down through Main street, is a
good, wide concrete pavement.

The town of Woodsville has also
put in tar concrete the whole length of
the Main street, and what was at one
time a rough and, at times, a deep mud
road, is now a smoother and beautiful
driveway.

Ashland and Meredith have recently
improved their village streets by putting
in a permanent pavement. Berlin has
been rebuilding its main street this past
season.

Lancaster repaired its main street a
few years ago by putting in crushed
stone.

In 1903 Lisbon relaid its sewer sys-

tem in part of the town, and this past
summer has macadamized the main
street and village square. They have
converted a rough and worn-out old
road into a modern improved road that
it is a pleasure to do business on, and
is a credit to the town.

Many other instances of road im-
provement in our smaller towns might
be mentioned. This all goes to show
the desire and determination of the peo-
ple to have better roads in the state.
This work is being started and done
where, as it is thought, it will do the
greatest good to the greatest number,
and so it is, but from these beginnings,
from these trunks as it were, will start
the branches, and a little will be built
from year to year until finally the roads
improved will reach to the town lines,
and good roads and a continuous sys-
tem of good roads will be the result.

It is a good sign to see the people
waking up to the importance of better
roads. The people will demand of their
road agents better results for the money
they are spending, and the time is sure
to come when those who have to do with
our road work, and who spend our
money, must give something to show
for it. The people will demand a road
builder for road agent and not, as is
now too often the case, a political
boss.

Durham Library Association.

No.

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